CIHM 
Microfiche 
Series 
(l\/lonographs) 


ICiy/IH 

Collection  de 
microfiches 
(monographies) 


Canadian  Inatituta  for  Historical  IMicrorcproduetiona  /  inititut  Canadian  da  microraproductiona  liiatoriquaa 


1995 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes  /  Notes  technique  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  hesi  original 
copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this  copy  which 
may  be  bibliographically  unique,  which  may  alter  any  of 
the  images  in  the  reproduction,  or  which  may 
significantly  change  the  usual  method  of  filming  are 
checked  below. 


D 

D 

D 
D 
[Z 

D 

D 

D 

D 

D 


Coloured  coveis  / 
Couverture  de  couleur 

Covers  damaged  / 
Couverture  endommag^ 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
Couverture  restaur^  et/ou  pellicula 


Cover  title  missing  /  Le  Utre  de  couverture  manque 

Coloured  maps  /  Cartes  gtographiques  en  couleur 

Coloured  ink  (I.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)  / 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

Coloured  plates  and/or  illustratkms  / 
Planches  et/ou  illustratrans  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material  / 
Reli6  avec  dautres  documents 

Only  edltkm  available  / 
Seule  edition  disponlble 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin  /  La  rellure  serrie  peut 
causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la  dlstoiskin  le  long  de 
la  marge  int^rieure. 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoratkxis  may  appear 
within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these  tiave 
been  omitted  from  tjlming  /  II  se  peut  que  ceitalnes 
pages  blanches  ajouties  tors  d'une  restauratlon 
apparaissent  dans  le  texle,  mais,  kxsque  cela  itait 
possible,  ces  pages  n'ont  pas  M  fnmtes. 


L'Institut  a  microfilme  le  meilleur  examplaire  qu'ii  lui  a 
*te  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details  de  cet  exem- 
plaire  qui  sont  peut-Stre  uniques  du  point  de  vue  bibii- 
ographiqiie,  qui  peuvent  modifier  une  image  reproduite, 
ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une  modifications  dans  la  m6lh- 
ode  normale  de  fllmage  sont  indiquds  ci-dessous. 

I     I      Coloured  pages  /  Pages  de  coi  'eur 

I     I      Pages  dan  aged/ Pages  endommagies 

I     I      Pages  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
' — '      Pages  restaur^es  et/ou  pellicuUes 

r^    Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed  / 
' — '      Pages  d^coiortes,  tachet^es  ou  pk)uees 

I     I      Pages  detached  /  Pages  d^tach^es 

r~l/    Showthrough/ Transparence 


n 

D 
D 


n 


Quality  of  print  varies  / 
Qualit^  inhale  de  l'lmpressk>n 

Includes  supplementary  material  / 
Comprend  du  materiel  supplimentaire 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refllmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image  /  Les  pages 
totalement  ou  partiellement  obscurcles  par  un 
feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure,  etc.,  ont  m  filmtes 
a  nouveau  de  fa;on  a  obtenir  la  mellleure 
Image  possible. 

Opposing  pages  with  varying  colouration  or 
discolourations  are  filmed  twice  to  ensure  the 
best  possible  Image  /  Les  pages  s'opposant 
ayant  des  colorations  variables  ou  des  dteol- 
orations  sont  filmies  deux  fojs  afin  d'obtenir  la 
meilleur  Image  possible. 


D 


AddnkmaJ  comments  / 
Commentairss  suppl^meKaires: 


This  ittin  is  fihnMl  at  ttw  riduction  ratio  dMCkad  below/ 

Ca  documanl  asl  film*  au  taux  da  rMuction  in&i^ai  ci-dn>ous. 

lOX  14X  1IX 


20X 


ax 


»x 


Tha  copy  flimad  h«r«  has  baan  raproducad  thanka 
to  Iha  ganaroaitv  of: 

National  Library  of  Canada 


L'axainp(aira  filmt  lul  raprodMJt  grtea  i  la 
g*n4roail*  da: 

Blbllothequa  natlonala  dv  Canada 


Tha  imagaa  appaaring  hara  ara  tha  bait  quality 
poaaibia  conaidaring  tha  condition  and  lagibility 
of  tha  original  copy  and  in  icaoping  with  tha 
filming  contract  apaclficationa. 


Original  eoplaa  in  printad  papar  covora  ara  fllmad 
baginning  with  tha  front  eovar  and  anding  on 
tha  laat  paga  with  a  printad  or  llluatratad  impraa- 
aion,  or  tha  back  eovar  whan  appropriata.  All 
othar  original  copiaa  ara  filmad  baginning  on  tha 
firat  paga  with  a  printad  or  llluatratad  impraa- 
aion.  and  anding  on  tha  laat  paga  twiih  a  printad 
or  llluatratad  impraaaion. 


Tha  iaat  racordad  frama  on  aach  mierof icha 
ahall  conuin  tha  aymbol  — •'  Imaaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  tha  lymbol  V  Imaaning  "END"), 
whichavar  appliaa. 

Mapa.  piataa.  cham.  ate.  may  ba  filmad  at 
diffarant  raduction  ratioa.  Thoaa  too  larga  to  ba 
antiraly  includad  in  ona  axpoaura  ara  filmad 
baginning  in  tha  uppar  laft  hand  cornar.  iaft  to 
right  and  top  to  bonom.  aa  many  framaa  aa 
raquirad.  Tha  following  diagrama  illuatraia  tha 
mathod: 


Laa  Imagaa  tuivantaa  ont  M  raproduitai  avae  la 
plua  grand  toin.  eompta  tanu  da  la  condition  at 
da  la  nanat*  da  I'axamplaira  film*,  at  »n 
oonformlt4  avac  laa  conditiona  du  eontrat  da 
filmaga. 

Laa  axamplairaa  originauji  dont  la  couvartura  an 
papiar  aat  imprimta  aont  fllmta  m  commancant 
par  la  pramiar  plat  at  an  tarminant  soit  par  la 
darnitra  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprainta 
d'Impraaaion  ou  d'illuatration.  toil  par  la  tacond 
plat,  aalon  la  eaa.  Toua  laa  autraa  axamplairaa 
originaua  aont  fllmAa  an  commancant  par  la 
pramiAra  paga  qui  compona  una  amprainta 
d'Impraaaion  ou  d'illuatration  at  an  tarminant  par 
la  darnitra  paga  qui  comporta  una  talla 
amprainta. 

Un  daa  aymbolaa  suivanta  apparattra  tur  la 
darnitra  imaga  da  chaqua  microfiche,  talon  la 
caa:  la  aymbola  ^»  aignifia  "A  SUiVRE".  la 
aymboia  ▼  aignifia  "FIN". 

Laa  cartaa.  planchaa.  tablaaux.  ate.  pauvant  itra 
fllmto  t  daa  taux  da  rMuction  diff*ranta. 
Loraqua  la  documant  aat  trop  grand  pour  itra 
raproduit  an  un  aaul  clich*.  il  aat  film*  a  panir 
da  I'angla  aup*riaur  gaucha.  da  gaucha  i  droiia. 
at  da  haut  an  baa.  an  pranant  la  nombra 
d'imagaa  nOeaaaaira.  Laa  diagrammaa  tuivantt 
illuatrant  la  mMhoda. 


1  2  3 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

Mioocorr  >tsoiuTiON  test  chart 

(ANSI  oftd  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


^  /APPLIED  IM/1GE     In 

^^li  1653  Cost   Main   Slf«et 

^S^S  RochMt«r.   New  York         1*609       USA 

F-^—  {716)482-0300      Phone 

^S  (^'6)   288-5989  -  ra« 


fnn     ~;^>punC'i 


jSf         ^g-^TK. r  «-«  <V  » 


-tA*-*" 


.A  /v^., /S-^^^^ 


^-oJJL^ 


_    /^,^7^ 


lU.--^ 


/M^t,^ 


-^^u^.^  Hi-^-^ 


/- 


IDYLLS     OF 
THE     DANE 


BY 


IRENE  ELDER  MORTON 


BOSTON 

THE  GORHAM  PRESS 
1916 


08T3 


69713 

COFYUCHT,  I916,  BY  ISENI  ELDEE  MOKTOM 


All  Rights  Reserved 


The  Gorbam  Press,  Boston,  U.S,A. 


y 


DEDICATION 

To  the  Beloved  Comcades  of  the  Hearth, 

Who  all  have  passed  the  last  turn  on  the  Upward  Way, 

I  who  alone  remain,  dedicate 

These  fragments  of  a  wandering  mind. 


"So  in  the  diicorda  of  unhappy  men. 
From  out  their  barbaroui  tumults,  there  go 
Up  to  God  the  fighs  of  solitary  souls 
In  Him  united." 

Giosui  CAionca. 


CONTENTS 

Ttaa 

To  THE  Reader 7 

Idylls  of  the  Dane 

An  Early  Dream  of  Peace 11 

The  Princess  and  the  Dane  ....  31 

To  A.  M.  F.,  a  Girl  Graduate  ....  38 

Two  Little  Sunbonnets 39 

The   Old   Parll^ment  to  the   Coming 

Women 40 

She  Is  Mine 43 

A  Picture 43 

On  the  Hills 

Book  i — ^Valoria 45 

Geneva 53 

SoNO 68 

Book  s^At  Home 70 

Song 83 

Book  3 83 

London 83 

Letter  to  Leo  Wbndal  .    .  84 

Sydenham 88 

Alumn<b  Poem 99 

England  Listens 104 

Song 106 


TO  THE  READER 

A  song  of  Eld  that  came  like  dream  of  night 
Across  dim  ages,  with  their  silent  seas, 
Where  only  the  old  pilot  stars  looked  down 
From  the  far  Dane-land,  where  a  princess  moved, 
Enshrined  in  the  white  robes  of  maidenhood. 
Unharmed  amid  the  stormy  days  of  Lid ; 
For  the  Great  Love  had  touched  her  and  she  died, 
Stretching  her  white  hands  to  the  coming  Light. 

Shall  we  not  love  the  Dane?    Do  we  forget 
The  Royal  Dane,  who  in  the  morning  days, 
When  looking  for  the  choicest  flower  of  life. 
Chose  the  brave  Rose  of  England  for  her  flower. 
And  did  so  cherish  it  in  close  and  field. 
That  the  wide  Empire  gloried  in  its  bloom? 

Can  we  forget  that  when  our  king  beloved, 

— ^Who  had  so  helped  the  world  to  keep  God's 

Peace- 
Passed  to  V-i  hom(;  behind  the  mystic  veil, 
The  Royal  Dane  held  last  his  eye  and  hand? 


IDYLLS   OF  THE   DANE 


IDYLLS  OF  THE  DANE 


AN  EARLY  DREAM  OF  PEACE 

There  dwelt  in  days  ao  ancient  that  the  date 
Of  them  is  covered  by  the  mist  of  years, 
Circhng  in  long  gone  centuries,  three  kings 
Upon  three  island  kingdoms,  where  the  waves 
Of  the  North  Sea  beat  up  against  the  coast 
Of  Dane-land;  dropping  South  the  islands  lay, 
The  smallest  kingdom  ruled  by  Conamore, 
The  largest  by  the  youngest  of  the  kings, 
Noted  for  strength  and  bravery,  Valdershield ; 
The  other  kingdom,  ruled  by  an  old  king. 
Most  fierce  in  combat,  ever  deep  in  war, 
Who  had  one  only  child,  the  fair  Helene. 
She,  even  in  childhood,  hated  war  and  strife. 
And  to  her  listening  maids  would  often  tell 
Of  some  glad  coming  time  when  peace  should  take 
The  place  of  war  upon  their  island  home. 
The  old  king  held  her  as  the  one  white  thought 
He  loved,  laughed  at  her  fancies,  but  denied 
Her  naught,  and  often  to  his  lords  would  say: 
Sir  knights,  you  must  do  all  your  fighting  while 
I  live,  for  when  you  have  a  queen,  I  fear 
Your  swords  will  rust."    But  ever  when  they  bat- 
tled 
On  the  sea  or  land,  the  bravest  knights  were  left 
To  guard  Helene. 

T  J    L     .     .  ^^™  ^'  young  princess  grew 

lo  maidenhood,  the  wondrous  light  within 
Her  starry  eyes  seemed  to  be  looking  at 
The  world  as  through  a  veil  of  mist.     She,  with 
Her  women,  wandered  often  by  the  sea, 
II 


And  watched  its  glimmering  space*  rise  and  fall, 
Or  listened  when  the  thunder  of  its  waves 
Was  breaking  loud  against  the  beach.     In  times 
Of  peace  her  galley  tailed  among  the  islei. 
The  princess'  galley  bore  a  uiow-white  flag, 
And  passed  unchallenged  wheresoe'er  it  pleased. 
Brave  Valdershield  gave  order*  to  his  knight*; 

Whenever  on  the  sea  you  meet  the  white 
Flag  of  Hclene,  lower  my  red  one  to  it." 
After  much  pausing  by  the  open  sea. 
After  much  listening  in  the  starry  nights, 
The  princess  one  day  sought  the  king,  and  said: 

I  have  one  great  request  to  make,  O  king  I 
And  by  the  memory  of  my  mother's  face, 
And  by  the  power  that  holds  my  heart  to  yours, 
Promise  me  you  will  grant  it,  now  before 
I  speak." 

The  king  put  both  his  hands  against 
Her  cheek  and  gave  the  pledge. 

She  said,  "Command 
Your  strongest  galleys  to  be  fitted  out, 
Manned  with  the  bravest  of  our  men:  let  each 
Be  captained  by  a  trusty  knight  to  bear 
Me  southward  over  seas  that  show  no  land 
Against  the  distant  water  rim." 

_,  .  The  king 

Cried  with  blanched  face : 

,,      ,  ,  "Why  did  you  take 

My  pledge  for  such  a  wild,  capricious  wish 
As  this?" 

The  princess  said,  "Stories  have  come 
To  me  of  a  far  land,  where  grows  a  seed, 
Yielding  a  flower  and  fruit  whose  perfume  first 
Stirs  thoughts  of  love  and  blessedness  within 
The  heart.    The  fruit  when  perfected  works  so 
Upon  the  brain,  men  know  the  best,  and  from 

13 


Choice  foUow  it.    There  must  be  something  better 
Meint  for  man'i  work  in  the  world  than  brutal 
war. 

t    ,'.  '*!"'*  "*  ■"*  ''■°'"  °"t  th*  "arry  depths 

And  in  the  many  voices  of  the  wind, 

As  in  the  voices  of  the  moaning  sea, 

And  in  the  presence  of  all  voiceless  things, 

That  Nature  holds  to  heal  and  help  mankind, 

A  sense  of  surety  that  outside  of  all 

There  lives  a  power,  strong,  merciful  and  good, 

And  that  men  might,  by  giving  up  their  wars. 

And  evil  worb,  which  only  do  destroy, 

By  tender  care  of  Nature's  gracious  gifts. 

And  helpfulness,  each  to  the  other,  grow 

To  something  working  with  that  Power,  until 

The  man  s  work  met  the  God's  outside,  and  so 

Unite,  and  make  a  circle  girding  all 

The  isles,  and  all  the  unknown  lands  beyond, 

While  earth  grows  golden  with  the  fruits  of  peace." 

And  so  it  came  the  Princess  with  her  maids, 
tncircled  by  a  fleet,  sailed  down  the  flood. 
The  king  had  sent  a  galley  strongly  manned, 
With  orders  to  return  with  word  to  him 
When  they  had  found  the  land  for  which  thev 
sailed.  ' 

The  full-orbed  moon  had  twice  looked  on  the  isles, 
When  the  king  hailed  his  messengers  again 
Bringing  good  tidings  of  the  loved  Helene 
And  voyage  fair  to  all  the  ships  and  men. 
AH  were  safe  landed  on  the  wished  for  shore. 
And  named  the  time  when  they  should  steer  for 

home. 
When   the  long-looked-for   time   at   length   came 

round, 
And  the  far  sea  line  showed  the  princess'  fleet 
»3 


jLte  HMcb  upon  the  Jky  rim  to  thd,  «.. 
J^  ofd  king  ordemi  fi7« Xng  a^cZT" 

A«d  the  v-t  ».ce,  of  the  NoX"„  sL        ' 
The  Wild  storm  ,pe„t  ;„  furyTon.  niiST" 

And  fr.,mS,nrtKu"t^dTp.':™''"  ''•"• 

'^^  ''wft^e^  •"  "'■•  ^■'*-  'tood  dumb.  «d 

^^tp^fei-^oSi^trd 

^y  like  a  stranded  flower  of  peace. 

Kmg  faieh  beside  her  on  the  sand,  S'au" 

'4 


^wi  the  knight*  bore  her  to  the  PtUce  Hall 

And  drcMd  for  the  lut  time  the  lovely  form 

And  lU  the  people  of  the  realm  wept. 

Then  lent  the  old  king  forth  two  embiuiet. 
t;«lling  the  other  kingi  to  come  to  him: 
i-or  hif  greet  torrow  wrought  forgetfulnew 

An7J{.?  T^  •*^h.  "^^I  =""«  King  Conamore, 
alnJ^^^'  VeldenWeld.  followed  by  many 

thril-  '^^  *"''  "'''*"  *•''  "*»k 

Place,  in  the  Palace  Hall,  and  stood  around 
The  dead  form  of  the  beaurifu"  Helene, 
The  old  king  took  the  casket  still  close-sealed. 
And  opened  it  in  presence  of  them  all. 

They  found  Ae  casket  fiUed  with  a  fine  se.!d 
1  hat  seemed  a  golden  sand,  and  in  it  lay 
A  letter  to  the  king.    For  a  brief  space 
He  struggled  to  command  his  thoughts  within, 
1  hen  read  aloud  the  last  words  of  Hi'  "le- 
A.  we  are  leaving  this  fair  land  I  seem 
1  o  teel,  although  our  galley  prows  are  turned 
1  oward  home,  and  the  far  sea  line  shows  no  hint 
ut  storm,  that  I  may  never  look  upon 
Your  face  again,  O  father,  kind  and  true. 
And  so  I  v/nte. 

T  J   t         ^*  purposes  for  which 

I  crowed  the  seas  are  all  fulfilled,  and  I 
ttrar  home  a  casket  of  the  golden  seed, 
Of  love  and  peace.    If  our  ships  suffer  wreck, 
Xhe  kindly  seas  may  bear  the  casket  »ealed 
And  cast  it  on  your  shores;  then,  for  the  sake 
Ut  her  whom  you  have  kept  within  the  strong, 
IS 


Love  tower  of  your  heart,  while  aU  without 

Was  red  with  carnage,  listen  to  my  words. 

Invite  King  Conamore  and  Valdershield, 

Hy  messengers  who  carry  my  white  flag, 

1  o  come  to  our  domain,  and  then  divide 

Ihe  golden  seed  among  the  kingdoms  three. 

Ask  each  m  memory  of  the  dead  Helene 

1 0  scatter  it  upon  its  mother  earth, 

And  learn  the  story  that  its  flower  and  fruit 

Will  tell.    Our  men  are  bending  to  the  oar; 

And  from  the  curved  beach  comes  borne  to  me 

1  he  heavy  murmur  of  receding  waves 

Thst  seem  to  bear  forever  far  away 

All  the  rough  tumult  and  wild  jar  of  life 

And  if  the  curtain  rises,  and  I  go 

Beyond  all  shadow  to  the  central  Light, 

1  ell  all  our  people  whom  I  have  so  loved 

lo  guard  in  memory  of  the  lost  Helene 

t.ach  atom  of  the  golden  seed,  until 

Our  land  shall  bloom  with  the  white  flower  of 

peace. 
When  to  all  sights  without  I  close  my  eyes 
And  listen,  while  the  voice  from  lands  unknown 
Speaks  to  responsive  thoughts  that  burn  within 
I  seem  to  feel  a  wonderful,  sweet  peace. 
Lifting  me  like  a  strong,  incoming  tide,' 
lo  rest,  unbroken,  infinite. 

1171.  T  ^'  °"* 

Z^l"'  V^.""'^  "T^  '"'8'^t  stand  beside  my  couch 
Without  his  sword,  and  in  his  strong  hands  take 
My  own  until  I  crossed  the  bridge  of  death. 
And  the  white  silence  fell  upon  my  face 
And  I  could  hear  him  swear  that  he  would  not 
Unsheathe  his  sword  again,  it  were  most  sweet 
To  die. 

Then  sank  King  Valdershield  upon 
i6 


His  knees  and  moaned ; 

"I  might  have  wed  her,  but 
For  these  cursed  wars.    None  knew  but  she  and  I 
I  offered  her  my  love,  my  realm,  and  fealty 
To  her  father's  cause;  that  I  with  all  my  knights 
Would  join  with  him,  and  take  his  country  from 
King  Conamore,  and  make  one  mighty  kingdom 
Of  the  three.    I  swore  by  my  true  sword  that 
For  her  love  I  would  do  this,  and  lay  aside 
My  crown,  and  take  the  place  of  chiefest  knight. 
While  the  old  king  should  live;  then  after  he 
Should  pass  from  us,  that  I  would  place  a  crown 
Of  the  three  kingdoms  on  her  head,  while  I 
Would  be  her  loyal  prince  and  servitor; 
But  she  would  not;  although  the  rose-flush  dyed 
Her  soft  white  cheek,  just  as  the  sunset  glory 
Tints  our  skies  of  pearl,  while  my  hot  words  fell 
On  ear  and  heart.    She  lifted  up  her  face. 
Sweet  as  the  memory  of  my  mother's  songs. 
And  said: 

'Love  that  endures  is  sweet,  O  king; 
I  do  not  doubt  your  faith,  but  no  hand  may 
Ever  mine  enfold  red  with  the  blood  of  men ; 
Voices  are  calling  me  across  the  seas 
Toward  a  happy  shore  where  grows  the  fruit 
Of  peace.    If  I  can  gather  on  that  distant 
Shore  even  a  handful  of  the  precious  seed. 
And  bring  it  back  and  scatter  it  about 
Our  kingdoms  three,  they  tell  me  that  its  rare 
Perfume  softens  men's  hearts,  and  fills  them  with 
Kind   thoughts  for  others  than   themselves;   that 

when 
The  white  flower  ripens  to  a  golden  grain, 
It  makes  a  food  for  man  that  shows  him  all 
The  best  and  highest  things  of  life,  and  makes 
Him  hate  a  life  of  war  and  greed.    For  I 

17 


10  De  the  weapons  of  capricious  wrath.' 

And  held  it  while  he  sDot.._"TK  "^  "*"" 

The  ove.™as,eri;rthfc^^^^^^  to  n,e 

ThY,  »  "~*'u*''='""'«^  '""^ked  forever  in 

Bejc^je^ilefa^-!--- 

My  Po,t,o„  of  the  seed  and  scatter  h 

g'«^afs^reVa!rtei\i-''°" 
Tfe.Uw.ll  never  turn  to^you  in7rife  '  ' 

Wher.  the  sad  rites  were  ended,  and  the  last 
Low  d.rge  of  mus  c  had  been  borne  away 
Over  the  waves  of  the  regretful  sea. 
The  fang,  her  father,  called  on  all  his  knights 
i8 


and 


with 


To  stack  their  arms  upon  the  princess'  grave. 
King  Oinamore,  and  he  who  loved  Helene, 
Gave  the  same  order;  and  the  clash  of  arms 
That  echoed  over  land  and  sea  rang  out 
The  requiem  of  War  above  her  grave. 
They  stood  a  burnished  monument  of  steel, 
Their  evil  work  forever  done,  untouched 
Forever  more  by  human  hands. 

Thr  old  king  gave  to  each  the  other  kings, 

Vi ;  en  after  many  days  they  left  his  realm, 

A  portion  of  the  precious  golden  seed. 

That  grew  a  wondrous  white  flower,  small  as 

The  daisy,  with  a  stem  of  gold;  and  when 

The  summer  winds  blew  o'er  the  fields  of  white 

And  gold,  subtle,  undreamed  of  fragrance  filled 

The  air,  and  seemed  to  enter  through  the  senses 

To  the  heart,  and  blossom  there  in  thoughts  of  love. 

Then  when  the  bloom  had  faded  into  grain 

And  all  the  people  in  each  kingdom  ate 

The  food,   there  sprang  from  kings  and  knights 

such  deeds 
Of  kindliness  and  care  for  all  the  realm. 
That  none  could  render  back  aught  but  the  love 
And  service  of  their  lives. 

Should  any  say,  "This  is  an  idle  dream. 
Of  which  no  history  can  prove  a  trace," 
I  answer,  "Who  can  tell  us  half  the  history 
Of  half  the  world?"    We  mine  and  study  till 
Our  minds  grow   burdened  with   the  weight  of 

thought; 
We  scarcely  tan  endure  the  ignorance 
Of  the  unlearned — and  yet  races  of  men 
Have  lived  their  day  and  died,  thrones  have  been 

set, 

19 


before  °'   ""  »^«   rf»ng  done 

Or  toward  what  verl>    TK"    *'"  ^^""^  'hadows? 
That  all  who  s^rV^? ,  Jfi*^:  ^  l">«  we  know, 

S^;rr£rzv1r:e^«„^^^^^^^^^^^ 

TheKtuntan^a'^;i,.^rt.-^"^" 


THE   PRINCESS  AND  THE   DANE 

The  Princess  Edith  stood  in  her  high  tower 
And  watched  with  a  white  face  the  battle  rage. 
Silent  all  day  had  stood  her  white  webbed  loom, 
Untouched  the  strinp  of  her  wild  Northern  harp. 
The  women  wept  and  wailed  around  her  feet, 
But  she  had  stood  since  dawn  had  brought  the  cry: 
King  Athelvar  is  landing  on  our  coast 
With  all  his  followers,  armed  to  the  teeth." 
Without  the  castle  and  within  its  walls, 
The  sharp,  quick  call,  "To  arms!"  had  been  obeyed. 
Rattle  of  shields  and  clang  of  many  swords 
Had  mingled  with  the  outcry  of  the  maids ; 
But  all  the  words  the  Princess  Edith  spoke. 
As  she  ascended  to  her  tower,  had  been, 
"Alas,  my  father,  it  has  come  at  last." 

A  fierce  old  warrior  had  her  father  been, 

Taking  bv  foul  means  when  the  fair  had  failed. 

King  of  a  Viking  horde  who  dwelt  upon 

The  stormy  highlands  of  the  Northern  seas — 

A  stormy  fragment  of  the  human  race. 

Who   had   grown   strong   by   hardship,    and   had 

breathed 
The  keen,  invigorating  Northern  air, 
Till  bone  and  muscle  answered  to  the  blood 
That  sen*  its  mighty  pulses  through  the  heart: 
Untaught,  save  in  its  wild  desire  to  dare. 
And  so  they  blindly  reached  out  eager  hands 
After  what  seemed  to  them  the  highest  good. 

The  Princess'  father  had  a  year  before 
Made  war  oSe  sive  on  a  distant  tribe. 
The  leader  of  the  tribe,  a  gray  old  man, 
With  one  son  only,  and  no  other  child, 

31 


Wa.  taken  by  surprise,  but  bravely  met 
The  lawlea  Vikmg  and  his  armed  host. 

vvas  absent  on  a  voyage  over  seas. 
He  was  a  lover  of  the  sea,  and  longed 
ro  find  out  other  places  in  the  world. 

But  l.Vh      ^""'1'  "™"«  ""<•  """y  oared. 
But  with  a  central  mast  and  rei  ,y  sail, 
I  o  bear  them  onward  when  the  winds  blew  fair 
H.S  father  was  a  fierce  old  Dane  who  knew 
No  higher  joy  than  conquest  over  foes; 

He  Jt,*? k"'IT"''°°''  '^'''^""^  "Pon  th«  prince, 
Hmfl  K     u'  /f*"".*^  ■""'''  "°  -""re  wars 

P,rhfn       -.r."  '^T  ™""  ■"=  "A"-  lands. 
Perhaps  w.th  less  of  storm  and  war  than    his 
I  have  heard  rumors  of  an  island  large, 
And  vemed  with  peaceful  rivers,  lyini  South 
Round  wh,ch;he  waters  of  the' Jorfd  jo^nseen 

Prince  Athelvar  had  voyaged  for  a  year, 
Explored  the  coast  of  Britain,  and  in  wake 

And  when  at  last  he  turned  his  galley's  prow 
Acr<»s  the  widening  seas  to  find  his  home 
H,s  m  nd  was  filled  with  larger  meanings  caught 
From  the  new  hfe  in  Britain  and  in  Rome 

And  hr''- ^'  fT"*  ^"*  ''"'"•  «>  f""  w«re  heart 
,^bram  of  plans  for  work  among  his  -ribe 
mat  man  has  done."  he  said  wifhin  him«  f, 
Man  yet  may  dp,"  and  so  he  bravely  planned 
To  lead  his  people  to  a  higher  life 
No  tidings  of  the  war  had  reached  his  ears 
Nor  any  rumor  that  the  king  was  Jead; 
And  when  they  neared  the  old  familiar  coast, 
33 


His  heart  filled  with  deep  longings  to  behold 
Again  the  grey-haired  sire,  and  to  recount 
To  him  the  wonders  of  the  wi<'-r  world, — 
He  strained  his  eyes  to  see  an-  ;ig  the  crowd 
Who  gathered  on  the  shore  to  welcome  him, 
His  father's  form,  which  held  for  him  alone 
The  blood  of  kindred  on  the  stormy  earth. 
But  when  the  chieftains  met  him  with  a  look 
Of  sorrow  mingled  with  their  joy,  and  hailed 
Him  "King,"  his  face  blanched,  and  he  scarce  could 

find 
A  voice,  but  soon  he  cried, 
, ,  . .         „„  "Not  king,  nay,  greet 

.  le  not  as  kmg.    Where  is  the  king,  my  father? 
Let  us  go  to  him ;  lead,  and  I  follow. 
But  speak  not  on  the  way.    It  is  but  meet 
The  son  should  greet  the  father  first  of  all. 
I  miss  so  many  faces,  but  no  doubt 
They  wait  my  coming  with  the  king." 

,,_,  One  said, 

They  are  with  the  king"; 

"It  is  well;  pass  on." 
And  sothe  crowd  moved  slowly  toward  the  hall. 
An  ominous  silence  brooding  over  all. 
The  hall  was  reached,  the  chief  swung  wide  the 

door, 
And  said,  "Enter  the  king." 

A  feast  was  spread ; 
The  burnished  armour  glistened  on  the  wall  ; 
The  floor  was  spread  with  many  skins  of  beasts; 
Upon  the  broad  stone  hearth  a  bright  fire  blazed, 
And  in  its  place,  covered  with  leopard  skin. 
The  old  man's  seat  stood  vacant  by  the  fire. 

The  prince  sank  down  upon  the  vacant  chair, 
While  the  chief  told  the  story  of  the  loss. 
as 


rf left  "o'^S^r'^'K""]'  *«  "" 

Who  dosed  thf/torvoi  .k''''"'  "''  ^'e^. 
So  Athelvar.  who  ha^  iV"  T'?"'?'"  «"fc- 

Set  out  .««ntafe't:'.':r  ''■■■"'^• 

H«<l  in  her  heart  a  Un™    ^^"^'  '^'"""  *e 
After  the  ki^  fdl  K"  «'m ''  ?  ''«'"', 
An  audience  wkh'ilp''.''  ''''''."''  »0"8ht 
With  hum>d  «ep  a*d  fCu^  '"u  '^'  ''»"'• 
He  would  havrsLed  h?"u''''':i8 '■"«  '^'  ^'^'! 
And  asked,  ''  ''"  '"'"•''  >>«  »he  drew  back 

7hek;„;?,!,',.;',"^^^arter^^ 

rmn,trfl^^r«:ir  "ri"  --"^X 

Tall  Dane,  pnW  AthT  '"'  ^'"-  ^°^  ""» 
And  fiehts'irall  fh  'tYi  "or^*-"'' 
That  he  will  show  no  merev  for  fV   ■'  '"" 

vorS;rc^^r^'--^^^-cr' 

A  fine  s^rrglea^K"'"  '"^^  «/  '*'*  «'•" 
Sheturned  ful  on  Ae  trZ     *\''""'y  '^at 


Go  to  prince  Athelvar,  and  say,  'The  dead 

When  te      '  ^'t  •"  ""  »°"»?"  "k'd  AthelvMr. 
•^  tell  rh,   '^•'''  ""  ™««'lt=  'h«  he  bore  ' 

Krbtsii";'; ^^'-^ '"« '"^ «'-''  t-^  »houid 

^. .      .  "A  miserable 

Tr.  ?.*'",'?"°  has  no  brother,"  he  spake 
To  himself,  as  he  came  from  the  r.W, 
Where^he  plunged  and  swam  many""times  'round 

E'tI?T'?7??"'" '""■"»  of  battle 

Fit"„';f:!r1!:;„7"'""^'^-'"™"t» 

The  Viking  chief  had  stolen  in  his  youth 

A  ofnllh^''^.'*  n*!'.'  "^  >"■'  ^hild  from  out 
ADanish  galley  which  he  chanced  to  meet 
m.le  cru.smg  carelessly  about  the  coa™ 
Her  nurse  was  with  her,  so  he  brought  he^  too 
Hoping  to  make  the  fair  Dane  more  content 

Mos    fal'tHulin"''  "''■'''  ""'"«''  »h»had  «r^;d 

Most  taitKfully  her  mistress  all  her  life 

Had  never  loved  the  Viking  or  his  ways 

When  death's  chill  touched  the  moTL,  she  had 

The  smaU  hands  of  her  baby  on  good  Ilda'. 
25 


Cheek,  and  took  her  promise  that  ihe  never 
Would  desert  her  child,  but  cherish  her,  and  watch 
For  chance,  provided  by  the  gods,  to  take 
Her  daughter  back  to  be  a  Dan>;. 

The  Viking  let  her  have  her  way  about 
The  child.    They  lived  within  the  rooms  built  at 
The  top  of  the  high  tower,  only  approached 
By  a  long  winding  stair  above  the  noise 
And  din  of  the  wild  horde. 

There  stood  the  loom 
Where  Ilda  taught  the  princess  how  to  weave 
The  wonderful  white  texture  which  she  said 
Would  some  day  make  a  royal  garment  for 
A  coming  prince. 

Ilda  had  taught  her  all 
Her  Danish  songs,  and  told  her  all  the  sweet 
Old  stories  of  the  land  she  loved.    How  fair 
Helene  had  given  up  her  life  to  bring 
Unto  the  islands  that  she  loved  the  flower 
Of  peace;  how  Valdershield  the  brave  had  never 
Wed  a  wife,  but  cherished  thoughts  of  her, 
Until  the  gods  had  called  him  home. 

The  fire  blazed  high  within  the  Viking's  hall, 
When  Edith  entered  it  to  meet  the  king. 
Who,  with  an  easy  grace  of  mien  and  voice. 
Advanced  and  said, 

"Regard  me  not,  I  pray. 
As  one  who  would  molest  your  liberty 
Or  life ;  my  latest  triumph  fills  me  with 
Deep  shame.    If  you  sought  vengeance  I  should  feel 
It  just." 

The  princess  stood  before  him  with 
The  beauty  of  the  woman  reaching  through 
The  sweet,  pearl,  child-look  on  her  earnest  face. 
36 


Her  worJ«  came  dear  and  low  at  the  replied: 
1  have  no  brother;  I  cannot  avenge 
«,?  %''*  ''*"'''  """■  »'»"W  I  if  I  could. 
Why  kill  to  many  more?    The  blood  of  half 
I  he  tribe*  would  not  bring;  back  the  life  of  one. 
Xhere  it  to  me  tome  thing  most  dreadful  in 
A  ttill,  dead  face,  from  which  all  thought  of  hope 
Ur  love,  or  power,  hat  forever  fled. 
My  nurse,  who  is  a  Dane,  hat  told  me  tales 
About  the  tribes  who  dwell  far  down  the  flood. 
Which  our  wi  d  mountain  torrents  rush  to  greet; 
iwu"  J  '"'.Kodt  have  shown  them  more  than  us, 
Who  dwell  perhaps  too  far  from  sun-rite  for 
1  he  gods  to  care.    I  know  what  conquest  means. 
Uniy  mytelf  now  ttandt  between  my  people 
And  thit  fighting  world;  my  father  mourned  much 
That  I  wa«  a  girl." 

"D  •  T  I.-  L   J^'  """8  '~"'"*  •°"'  and  said: 

Princett,  I  think  the  gods  did  well  to  make 
You  what  you  are. 

It  will  be  joy  to  me 
In  any  way  to  serve  you  and  repair 
The  evils  I  have  done.    I  did  not  know 
Your  father  had  no  sons,  or,  by  the  royal 
Gods,  I  would  have  waited  long  e'er  I  had 
Manned  a  galley,  or  unsheathed  a  sword." 
In  a  low  voice  Edith  replied, 
V  .  "My  father  did 

You  very  grievous  wrong;  when  he  rame  back 
Ivrom  that  aggressive  war  and  told  how  they 
Had  slain  an  old  man  while  his  son  was  far 
Away,  my  heart  rose  in  a  tempest  of 
Regret,  and  many  nights  I  lay  awake. 
Thinking  of  his  return.    I  pictured  first 
His  sorrow,  and  I  knew  the  laws  of  warfare 
Would  demand  revenge." 

»7 


"Could  I  have  drcamnl, 
Oprinceu,"  laid  the  kinr.  in  tone*  tubdued, 
"That  any  thought  of  me,  or  of  my  torrow 
Had  gone  out  from  luch  a  temple  of  fair  woman- 
hood, 
I  ihould  have  rather  lunken  all  my  fleet 
Than  come  to  make  diuutrous  war,    U  there 
Are  any  of  your  father't  chiefs  whom  you 
Can  truit  to  lead  and  reconttruct,  it  will 
Be  well;  if  not,  I  will  myself  see  that 
Your  wiahea  are  fulfilled,  and  will  remain 
Until  you  have  no  further  need  of  me." 
"There  is  not  one,"  Edith  replied,  "whom  I 
Could  name  as  leader  of  the  tribe.    Oland, 
Who  took  my  message  to  the  king,  would  fain 
Become  the  chief,  but  him  I  have  great  cause 
To  dread.    He  has  no  hold  upon  the  tribe. 
Nor  any  claim,  save  empty  love  of  rule." 

So  Athelvar  took  command  within  the  hall, 
Winning  the  remnant  of  the  tribe  by  gracious  ways. 
While  Edith  and  her  women  dwelt  nith'i 
The  tower,  until  all  signs  of  battle 
Had  quite  disappeared,  the  wounded  cared  for. 
And  the  wives  and  children  of  the  fallen 
Warriors  found  by  order  of  the  princess 
Shelter  in  the  hall. 

Oland  had  made  one 
Wild  attempt  to  overthrow  the  princess' 
Rule  and  hold  the  tribe,    ut  had  been  taken 
Prisoner  by  the  king.    The  people  clamored 
For  his  life,  but  Edith  said, 

"Shed  no  more  blood 
But  banish  him  forever  over  seas." 
He  took  his  sentence  from  the  king, 
Glad  of  his  life,  but  muttering  vengeance 
38 


p«P  on  her  who  ipared  hii  life,  but  ihruk  in 
Loathing  from  hit  love. 

The  people  loon  grew  wond'rou.ly  content 
Under  the  graciou.  rule  of  Athelvar. 

With  Uda,  came  at  evening  to  the  hall, 

Upon  the  happy  faces  gathered  there, 

uJirj'?  '""u"'  '"'"]"'  '"^^  »'"■'"  0'  ">«ny  beast. 
S„m«'   "  ?""''"•  ""*  "PO"  'he  floor.      ^ 

An^  fI?!1  V"!'  V*  •P'"''  l^'o™  the  king 
And  Edith,  by  the  happy  maids,  who  did 
Not  mourn,  because  the  rule  of  the  hard  old 
'ightmg  king  was  o  er. 

H..,j  .k  ■ .    *-*"*  ''V  the  k'ns;  had 

Heard  the  princess'  harp,  and  begged  to  have  it 
Brought  within  the  hall,  where  ohen  Edith  touched 

And'ih''"*/l'"'"'''  .".•"■''  her  »weet  voice  rordear 
And  echoed  long  within  the  heart  of  Athelva" 

WonM  Jt"*."!^'"  f^i^^  '*'"=''  that  he 

Would  jell   tales  of  his  wanderin,.  over  distant 

And  of  the  sights  in  Britain  and  in  Rome. 
I  have  so  often  longed,"  she  said,  "to  see 
The  edges  of  the  world,  where  the  great  seas 
Swirl  'round  and  underneath  the  stars.    I  h^ve 
Wondered^much  if  their  light  can  be  Shed. 

They  float  and  sparkle  on  the  outer  seas 
lo  light  the  way  for  galleys  of  the  gods. 
Did  you  learn  aught  in  any  other  lands 
From  any  of  the  people  of  the  gods? 
And  why  It  ,s  they  pour  upon  the  world 
So  much  of  hate  and  war?    If  they  would  but 
39 


Give  us  love  instead !    How  good  it  •  •re  to 
Rest  on  a  strong  love  outside  of  all !" 

Then  Athelvar  came  near  to  her  and  said, 
"In  that  great  Island,  Britain,  there  are  men 
Who  are  priests  only;  never  do  aught  else 
But  minister  the  rites  of  service  to 
Their  God.    I  listened  and  learned  this,  they  have 
But  one,  not  many  gods  like  us,  and  worship 
As  supreme  the  very  God  of  gods,  who 
Alone  hath  power  to  measure  good  and  evil 
To  the  world.    I  thought  much  of  that.    I  too 
Have  longed  to  know  more  of  the  meaning  of 
All  life;  why  men  should  live  fighting  each  other 
On  this  stormy  earth,  why  the  great  waters 
Rise  and  fall ;  and  what  the  voice  of  their  deep 
Undertone,  resounding  like  the  smothered 
Whispers  from  the  shores  where  dwell  the  happy 

gods. 
And  why  the  stars  shine  as  they  do,  some  large, 
Some  less ;  they  do  not  shine  by  chance ;  you  note 
That  certain  brilliant  ones  come  at  set  times, 
And  keep  thefr  places  in  the  great  blue  arch ; 
Most  likely  they  are  leaders  of  the  lesser  stars. 
And  all  move  peacefully,  shedding  their  light 
Alike  upon  the  living  and  the  dead. 
They  are  alive,  those  stars,  I  feel  quite  sure, 
And  move  by  order  of  some  power  unknown. 
When  our  seven  galleys  found  their  way  to  Rome, 
It  was  not  for  war  or  pillage,  but  I  thought 
Surely  the  secrets  of  all  knowledge  will 
Be  open  here.    I  wore  the  Roman  dress, 
And  mingled  freely  with  the  moving  crowd. 
No  tongue  can  tell  the  wonders  of  that  world; 
I  felt  like  one  drifted  from  some  bleak  shore, 
To  which  the  light  of  only  lesser  stars 
30 


Had  come.    And  yet  I  did  not  find  what  most 

1  longed  to  know;  ;!.,r  «„,  to  understand 

Ihe  meaning  of  ryseli  anj  o'l.r  men, 

VVhy  life  should  .ireik  i.ke  w,-,.  es  upon  the  shore, 

tddy  and  swirl  m,!  disappeai   beneath 

Forgotten  sands.    O.'.c;.  u'  night  when  our 

Ships  Heated  on  the  spreading  seas, 

I  longed  to  know  more  of  the  power  that  spoke  in 

And  wave,  but  I  found  none  in  Rome  who  cared 
for  this. 

I  saw  one  die  at  Rome.    Around  him 
Ihere  were  scores  of  men  and  women  on 
Kaised  seats,  each  one  above  the  other.    He 
Stood  on  a  place  where  all  could  see.    Then  were 
Let    loose    upon    him    fierce    wild    beasts.      The 

Roman 
Is  more  brutal  than  the  Dane.    We  kill  in 
War;   but  they  make  sport  of   death.     It  seems 

enouj,h 
When  the  shield  rattles  and  the  armour  rings, 
10  take  away  what  no  man  can  restore- 
iv"  '?  make  holiday,  and  watch  while  one 
Man  falls  before  brute  force  is  what  the  Dane 
Ui  Norseman  cannot  do. 
c       J.    .    ,  ,  This  man  whom  I 

??n  "'«  "»d  been  a  follower  of  One 
Called  Christ.    I  never  can  forget  the  face 
Ut  him:  the  pallor  of  it  was  extreme; 
But  such  a  look  I  never  saw  on  dying 
Face  before.    No  fear,  but  radiant  with  a  light 
Unspeakable.    He  stretched  forth  both  his  hands 
And  prayed  to  One  invisible,  and  cried 
My  Father,  I  am  ready;  take  me  to     ' 
Thyself,  and  shew  this  people  that  Thou  art 
The  very  God.' 

31 


He  made  no  struggle  with 
The  beasts,  but  let  them  tear,  until  in  one 
Long,  joyful  cry,  his  voice  died  out.    That  was 
The  wonderfulest  thing  I  saw  at  Rome. 
I  asked  about  this  Christ.    He  had  been  put 
To  cruel  death,  hated  alike  by  Roman 
And  by  Jew ;  yet  even  Pilate  said  when  he 
Condemned  Him,  that  there  was  'no  fault  in  Him.' 
His  life  had  been  spent  only  in  good  deeds. 
He  taught  a  clean,  pure  life  of  helpfulness 
By  man  to  man,  and  claimed  to  be  the  Son 
Of  the  One  God,  come  to  redeem  the  people 
Of  the  earth.    I  had  the  name  'Christ'  made  on 
White  wax  at  Rome,  and  brought  it  for  my  father. 
I  would  I  could  learn  more  of  Him.    He  said 
That  death  was  not  the  end,  that  those  who  loved 
And  followed  Him  should  have  a  life  with  Him 
Unending  in  a  better  world  than  this. 
How  good  were  that,  another,  better  life. 
That  we  may  seek  and  hope  for  in  this  world; 
The  outside  of  our  life  is  not  the  best. 
I  would  have  given  all  the  Caesar's  rule 
To  have  found  my  father  waiting  by  his  fire. 
The  Romans  have  a  brave  outside,  but  wrong, 
Murder,  and  pillage  fester  in  their  courts. 
They  serve  themselves,  those  Romans.    Some  day 

Rome 
Will  fall. 

If  such  a  thing  could  be  that  this 
Christ  taught,  that  the  One  God  did  love  the  wirld 
Enough  to  come  and  live  His  life  among 
The  poor,  shewing  at  once  the  brotherhood 
Of  the  Divine  and  human,  and  at  death 
Take  those  who  listened  to  His  teachings  to 
An  everlasting  life  of  highest  good. 
Why,  we  could  go  on  joyfully  in  hope; 
32 


For  Thor  and  Odin  live  so  far  away ; 

This  is  the  first  God  who  hath  touched  the  world." 

The  princess  with  a  rapt  and  earnest  face 
Sat  silent  while  he  spoke,  and  then  replied, 
That  were  indeed  a  God,  supreme  in  love. 
And  for  that  Christ  a  man  might  dare  to  die." 
Then  Athelvar  claimed  a  song  upon  the  harp; 
Then  sang  the  maiden  to  responsive  chords: 

SONG  OF  THE   PRINCESS 

"The  joy  in  the  heart  of  the  rose, 
The  song  in  the  heart  of  the  rain. 
The  glory  of  gladness  that  flows 
O'er  the  billows  of  tall,  ripened  grain ; 

"The  strength  in  the  heart  of  the  hills. 
The  imprisoned  lament  of  the  sea, 
The  low,  happy  laugh  of  the  rills, 
All  answer  to  something  in  me. 

"The  eyes  of  the  gods  in  the  stars, 
The  thoughts  of  my  heart  understand  ; 
Our  wild  streams  that  sweep  to  the  sea 
Bear  to  it  the  heart  of  the  land. 

"If  a  God  who  is  kinder  than  Thor 
And  stronger  than  Odin  doth  reign, 
Then  love  must  encircle  the  world. 
And  banish  all  memories  of  pain." 

When  Ilda  and  the  princess  were  alone 
That  night  within  the  chamber  of  the  tower, 
The  face  of  Edith  was  aglow  with  thought; 
Her  dark  eyes  gleamed  like  Venus  when  she  shines 
At  sunset  through  the  softened  vesper  air. 

33 


She  said:    "Ilda,  you  have  not  told  me  half 

The  truth  about  the  Danes;  this  king  is  grander 

Than  my  dreams  of  any  of  the  gods."    BuL 

While  she  spoke  the  nurse  cried,  "Hark,  surely 

I  closed  the  door  below  the  tower  stair  ?" 

She  dropped  the  comb  from  out  her  up-raised  hand, 

Lewmg  the  gold  floss  of  htr  lady's  hair 

To  fall  around  her  like  a  bridal  veil. 

Wrapped  in  a  dream  of  sweet  delight,  the  princess 

Did  not  note  the  sudden  pallor  on  her 

Nurse's  face,  only  half  noted  that  she 

Left  the  room,  closing  the  door  that  fastened 

With  a  spring  upon  the  inner  side. 

The  king  had  lingered  by  the  dying  fire. 

His  heart  too  full  of  gracious  thoughts  for  speech. 

The  revelation  of  that  sweet,  rare  face, 

And  wonderful  white  hand  that  seemed 

To  hold  all  womanhood  within  its  clasp. 

Thrilled  through  him  as  no  thoughts  had  thrilled 

before. 
"I  seem  to  understand  at  last,"  he  said, 
"The  true  uplifting  of  all  life.     Oh,  my 
Heart's  rose,  how  did  you  bloom  so  graciously 
In  this  rough  clime?" 

But  suddenly  the  door 
Flew  open,  and  the  nurse  cried  out, 

r\  V       /-.I  "Come  quick, 

«J  Kmg,  Oland  is  on  the  tower  stair." 
He  waited  not  for  any  weapon,  but 
Rushed  on  to  find  the  ruffian  had  reached 
Almost  the  top.    The  door  was  open — Edith 
otood  without;  all  trace  of  color  had  gone 
From  her  face.    At  sound  of  hurrying  feet 
Oland  turned  round  upon  the  s'air  to  meet 
The  king,  and  cried : 

34 


.  "Now  if  you  love  jour  life, 

You  pirate  prince,  come  not  another  step. 
I  swear  if  you  come  nearer  that  my  sword 
Shall  drain  your  blood,  and  then  within  my  lady's 
Room  she  will  be  glad  to  be  my  wife  to-night." 
The  princess  stretched  her  hand  toward  the  king. 
And  said: 

"Come  not  within  the  compass  of 
A  coward's  stab,  brave  prince.    Fear  not  for  me. 
My  tower  window  onens  to  the  floor. 
Rather  than  this  brute  should  lay  one  hand  on  me 
I  cast  myself  down  to  the  depths  below. 
Death  were  a  small  dread  in  the  place  of  him." 
The  king  said,  with  a  set,  stern  face, 
.    _,   ^  "Go  in 

And  shut  your  door,  but  open  not  your  window 
Till  I  call." 

Edith  obeyed,  and  as  she 
Closed  the  door  Oland  called  to  the  king, 
"Now  ask  your  last  gift  of  the  gods  before 
My  sword  shall  pierce  your  heart,  but  e'er  you  die 
Know  this,  the  girl  within  should  long  ago 
Have  been  my  wife." 

With  his  eyes  blazing  like 
The  light  of  Mars,  King  Athelvar  leaped 
The  stairs  between  and  cried, 

"Die,  dog  of  a  liar 
That  you  are!"  and  hurled  him  down  the  long  stone 
Tower  stair. 

Ilda  had  given  quick  alarm 
Without.    A  crowd  of  soldiers  hurried  to 
The  stair  just  as  the  Viking's  bod<'  limbled 
At  their  feet.    The  king  called  to  nis  men,  "Take 
Him  at  once,  and  give  him  a  dog's  burial. 
Tramp  firm  the  earth  upon  him,  and  then  come 
To  me." 

3S 


'W»  sped  quickly  to  unclose 
1  he  door,  which  shewed  them  Edith  with  one  hand 
Upon  the  unloosed  fastenings  of  the  window 
L)oor,  her  face  as  pallid  as  a  marble  urn; 
But  when  she  saw  King  Athelvar  stand  without. 
She  stretched  out  both  her  hands  to  him,  and  with 
A  great  cry  sank  upon  the  floor.    When  her 
Eyes  opened  and  she  saw  the  king's  face  bent 
Above  her,  her  first  words  were:    "Truly  your 
God  IS  good":  and  then,  "Take  me  forever 
From  this  room!" 

~,     ,  .        W"  ''"'■e  her  in  his  arms  down 

/he  long  stair,  and  laid  her  on  a  couch  by 

The  hall  fire.     Her  frightened  maidens  gathered 

round 
And  wept,  and  shuddered  when  a  sound  was  heard 
Outside.    King  Athelvar  did  not  sleep  that  night. 
But  caused  a  watch  of  soldiers  to  be  kept, 
Until  the  morning  light  brought  peace  to  all. 

The  Princess  Edith  never  looked  again 
Upon  the  tower  stair  where  Oland  died. 
The  entrance  to  it  was  closed  up  with  stone. 
And  the  door  covered  till  it  seemed  a  wall 
A  gentler  life  now  filled  the  rooms  below 
And  one  strong  presence  wakened  up  for  her 
Undreamed  of  harmonies,  mystical  and  sweet. 

Ilda  had  cut  the  white  web  from  the  loom, 
And  set  the  maids  to  broidering  with  gold 
Over  rare  patterns  that  the  princess  drew; 
And  so  they  made  a  garment  fitting  for 
A  fang  to  wear  upon  his  wedding  day. 
The  day  was  fair  when  Athelvar  the  Dane 
Wed  Edith,  daughter  of  his  fallen  foe. 
The  tribes  so  long  at  war  were  under  him 
36 


m 


United  first  in  one  harmonious  band. 

The  princess  to  her  people  said,  "Let  all 

Who  love  me  follow  him  with  loyalty; 

So  shall  he  lead  us  on  to  higher  good ; 

And  when  the  winter  shall  have  come  and  gone, 

And  happy  spring  shall  have  unloosed  again 

The  kindly  forces  of  the  earth,  we  will 

All  bid  adieu  to  this  wild  land  of  storms, 

And  seek  a  home  where  the  soft  south  wind  blows 

Among  the  tall  trees  crowning  hills  above 

The  peaceful  waters  of  a  wondrous  Bay 

Upon  the  coast  of  Britain,  which  the  Danes 

Have  long  ago  explored,  and  where  the  king 

Shall  lead  us  when  the  days  grow  long  again ; 

For,  O  my  people,  who  can  tell  if  we 

Are  each  one  faithful  to  the  very  best 

That  lies  within  us,  and  that  we  can  learn 

About  this  One  true  God  who  loves  the  world, 

But  that,  in  some  blessed  future  time, 

Norman  and  Dane  may  mingle  with  the  Briton, 

And  become  a  mighty  nation  serving  the  One  God." 


T 


TO  A.  M.   F. 

A  WW,  GRAOUATB 

0  Girlhood  with  its  crown  of  faith,  we  give 
Thee  our  best  thoughts  to-day.  this  grand  June  day, 
This  new  day,  never  used  before;  but  when 

in  coming  years  its  memory  unfolds 

May  It  be  fragrant  with  the  thoughts  that  now 

Bear  summer  mcense  for  thy  June  of  life. 

lo-day  thy  feet  have  touched  a  turning  step 

Upon  the  golden  stair. 

~,      ,    ,        ,        .,    To-day  you  leave 

1  he  shades  where  Virgil  sang  his  stories  of 
X  he  tossing  seas,  and  where  the  tall 
Uosed  doors  of  the  wide  past  have  opened  to 

Ihy  cdl,  and  where  thou  hast  heard  across  dead 

Unforgotten  songs. 

w   i_       •      .„  .^'"' *«  may  life  be  sweet , • 
We  know  It  will  be  true,  and  may  the  head 
fJt  the  coiled  serpent  that  so  loves  to  spoil 
Be  newly  wounded  should  he  near  thy  path 


38 


TWO  LITTLE  SUNBONNETS 

Two  little  »unbonnet8,  side  by  side, 

Hang  on  the  wall  at  eventide; 

While  two  little  faces,  rosy  and  fair, 

Shaded  by  blonde  and  bonnie  brown  hair 

Have  slipped  from  beneath  them  while  angek  keep 

Watch  over  slumbers  restful  and  sweet. 

Oh  I  baby  faces,  so  fiesh  and  fair. 

With  the  pearl  on  the  skin  and  the  gold  in  the  hair. 

And  eyes  as  dear  as  angels'  are 

As  they  pierce  the  blue  for  a  missing  star, 

And  baby  hearts  with  love  untold. 

And  soft  white  arms  that  our  hearts  enfold. 

How  fair  is  life  while  the  years  are  new, 

When  home  is  the  world  and  the  world  is  true 


39 


THE  OLD  PARLIAMENT  TO  THE  COM- 
ING  WOMEN 


In  ancient  times  we  tied  our  queues 
And  took  our  seats  in  parliament, 

And  (ought  as  brave  for  honor  bright 
As  knights  of  old  in  tournament. 


Our  country's  wrongs,  the  people's  weal, 
Were  then  the  reasons  why  we  met 

And  drew  our  diamond-hilted  steel. 
But  times  have  changed,  we  do  forget. 


i 


Ar.(.'.  shrink  and  shrivel  like  false  men 
in  i^larish  light  of  salaries, 

But  ladies,  ladies,  come  not  down ; 
Oh,  keep  you  to  the  galleries  I 


IV 


Don't  soil  your  trailing  robes  with  dust; 

Let  us  fight  on  for  salaries; 
We  pray  you  charming  ladies  bright, 

Oh!  keep  you  to  the  galleries. 


ri: 


Sometimes  in  heat  of  party  strife 
We  look  up  to  the  galleries. 

And  in  the  light  of  truth  and  love 
Almost  forget  our  salaries. 
40 


VI 


■And  ttrike  out  for  a  helpless  truth 
That  stand*  unclothed  and  shelterless, 

And  careless  of  opposing  lines 
We  stretch  our  hands  to  help  and  bless. 


vu 


And  when  the  battle  waged  and  won 
A  white  hand  from  the  galleries 

Had  touched  our  own  and  made  us  know 
A  dearer  thing  than  salaries. 


vni 


Oh,  ladies,  ladies,  keep  your  heights 

Above  all  hope  of  salaries 
■And  leave  us  something  dear  and  sweet 

Above  us  in  life's  gaUeries. 


SHE   IS   MINE 

Let  the  wild  wind  beat  the  rain 
Up  againat  my  window  pane. 
She  is  mine  I 

Night  and  ttorm  have  lott  their  power 
To  disturb  this  charmed  hour. 
She  is  mine. 

Life  has  blossomed  into  joy, 

Holding  nothing  for  alloy. 

She  is  mine! 

And  I  charge  you  Demon  Death 
Touch  her  not  with  your  cold  breath. 
She  is  mine  I 

Turn  the  lamp;  the  firelight  falls 
Softly  on  the  pictured  walls. 
She  is  mine! 


A  PICTURE 

Her  fomi  held  the  grace  of  a  linden  tree; 
Her  face  wai  u  fair  ai  a  woman'i  may  be. 

The  froited  lace  from  her  bared  white  arm 
Fell  back  to  the  shoulder.    Oh  I  the  charm 

Of  the  warm-hufd  flesh  tints;  the  woman's  hands 
Orasped  each  the  other— while  unseen  bands 

Seemed  to  mock  at  the  pressure  brought  to  bear 
On  the  forehead  crowned  with  its  plaits  of  hair. 

The  bride  of  a  month  I    What  does  she  there, 
Entenng  the  lists  with  Black  Despair? 

"If  one  could  but  try  and  then  go  back," 
Are  the  words  she  said;  then  keeps  her  track 

Up  and  down  the  long  bright  room, 

While  the  sunlight  faints  in  the  face  of  gloom. 

So  young!   Yet  the  long  black  hill  of  life 
Held  more  of  dread  than  a  hungry  knife. 

Will  she  bind  her  strong  soul  to  endure, 
And  make  no  sign?    Of  this  be  sure 

That  the  hungry  who  call  and  the  hurt  who  cry 
"Behold  my  painl"  to  the  passer-by, 

Have  never  sounded  the  depths  that  are  known 
To  the  voiceless  woman  who  stands  alone. 


43 


ON  THE  HILLS 

DEDICATION 

To  the  beloved  Comrades  of  the  Hearth 
Who  all  have  passed  the  last  turn 

In  the  Upward  Way, 
I,  who  alone  remain,  dedicate 
ihese  fragments  of  a  wandering  mind 


PREFACE 

A  song  of  youth  from  one  who,  loving  sones 
Listened  to  music  till  at  length  she  tried  ^' 
An  octave  for  herself. 

I.  E.  M. 


Wil 


n 


BOOK  FIRST 
VALORIA 

Begged  Heaven's  blessing  on  their  quiet  fanes 
Valona's  young  hand  touched  the  first  note    ' 
In  the  great  song  of  h'fe.    It  was  where  the  Wye 
S    feflfT  'h-d   winds  through  the  SLt 

Tt  w!!.!  •  -  J  V  ''•?'  '"^"''"  e°'"8  where 
It  woulo  and  charming  men  to  follow  its 

ir  hs  SV"""  ""''  "?•"  8a«  upon  its  face 
As  Its  br  ght  eyes  were  dreaming  in  the  shade 
Or  note  ,ts  ruffled  breast  agleam^with  gold    '' 

Or  hsten  when  the  time  of  shadows  fell 

To  the^  kw  chaunt  of  rhymes,   thrown    '-om  its 

Heart  to  the  ears  of  men,  till  drawing  near 

Callertn^r-  ^:rf'  '°\''  *«  ^o-"  "-at  fir^t 

Cal  ed  to  It  in  the  distant  happy  hills. 

Cabled  in  weird  harmony  of  winds  that  caught 

Ihe  great  unwritten  music  of  the  sea; 
And  as  they  met  with  voiceless  marriage  vow, 

It  buries  all  its  treasures  in  his  heart. 
A  little  way  withdrawn  from  the  white  dot 
Of  cottagra,  a  sudden  hill  reared  high 
Its  wooded  form  above  a  quaint  old  house, 
Whose  gables  rose  amid  a  wilderness 
Uf  clinging  vine,  and  cast  their  quivering 
Image  m  the  Wye;  and  here  amid  the  litht 
On  flower  and  wave.  Valoria's  young  eyts 
Could  only  catch  reflection  of  the  sun 
And  flowers. 

u  J  i^^"  i'^*^"  w^s  »  scholar  who 

Had  spent  his  early  life  in  distant  lands, 

47 


Who  with  a  lover's  earnest  eye  had  scanned 
All  loveliness,  and  with  a  lover's  heart 
Had  worshipped  it,  as  part  of  the  eternal 
Essence  that  distils  on  all  created  things. 
There  had  come  floating  back  to  his  old  home 
Vague  rumors,  in  the  first  years  of  his  stay 
Abroad,  telling  the  old,  old  story  that 
Is  ever  new,  how  the  sweet  grapes  of  youth 
Cast  in  the  press  of  life  yielded  such  wine — 
Such  rare  red  wine,  such  sparkling  wine — 
Held  in  God's  sunlight  gave  back  diamond  stars 
That  threw  their  light  within  two  hearts  and  round 
One  path  of  youth  and  love.    The  rumor  died 
And  was  forgotten.    In  the  after  yeirs 
The  man  came  back  alone;  but  all  could  see 
The  glow  had  faded  from  the  morning  hills 
For  him,  and  that  the  heart's  impulses  burned 
As  low  as  morning  beacon  fires  on  which 
No  hand  has  laid  a  faggot  since  last  night. 
Disliking  crowds,  but  genial  with  the  few 
Married  in  time  a  quiet  English  wife. 
And  settled  down  to  quiet  English  ways. 
He  had  seen  enough  of  cities  and  would  live 
In  this  old  house  in  Wales,  which  told  weird  tales 
Of  battles  fierce  where  throbbing  hearts,  long  sine; 
Grown  quiet  at  the  Christ's  first  look,  had  burned 
Out  life  to  light  the  way  of  truth,  where  weak 
Hands  struggled  with  a  giant  wrong. 

If  the  wa.e 
Of  love's  first  passion  had  rolled  in  upon 
The  harbour  of  his  'leart,  fragrant,  agleam 
With  rosy  light,  and  bearing  on  its  breast 
Fair  flower  and  fruitage  of  far  sunny  lands; 
Had  broken  on  the  beach  and  borne  away 
Not  only  all  it  brought  but  all  the  long 
Locked  treasures  of  3  strong  man's  heart;  he  made 
48 


i  tl 


No  sign  by  which  the  world  might  know.   There  are 

borne  essences  whose  subtile  rare  nerfume 

Forever  lingers  round  all  they  have  touched; 

And  there  lay  within  a  corner  of  an  old 

Old  desk  a  little  box  of  ivory 

And  pearl  that  held  a  girl's  glove  and  a  broken  ring, 

A  bit  of  Venice  carved  upon  its  lid; 

Its  spring  had  been  untouched  since  distant  years. 

Companioned  by  her  father,  led  by  him 
In  bcience  and  in  Art,  Valeria 
Smoothly  sailed  from  childhood's  sheltered  bay  out 

on 
The  rose-flushed  sea  of  dawning  womanhood, 
(Mot  dreammg  of  the  wrecks  that,  maybe,  lay 
Beneath  Its  waves)  her  gleaming  white  sails  set 
lo  catch  the  springing  breeze,  the  dainty  helm 
Held  by  the  strong  hand  of  her  father's  love. 
What  sunny  shores  to  her  young  eyes  were  stretched 
aqrond  the  bright  intenseness  of  the  morning  haze! 
What  fragrances  of  foreign  flowers,  what  sweet 
Ljow  echoings  of  far-off  song  floated 
Up  to  her  from  the  underworld!    Beauty 
Had  touched  her  with  its  subtile  wand, 
leaving  an  air  of  grace  thrown  carelessly  about 
Her  ways  as  though  she  moved  to  music  quite 
Unheard  by  other  ears.    Her  mind  was  trained 
By  study  of  all  useful  things;  she  was 
Enriched  with  all  accomplishments;  thought  out 
Her  own  thoughts  for  herself;  and  breathing  always 
An  atmosphere  of  rare  intelligence 
Within  her  father's  house  (he  loved  to  draw 
Around  him  men  who  followed  Art  and  Science 
For  the  love  of  it),  her  woman's  thought  had 
Learned  to  climb  and  twine  round  mighty  truths. 

But 
She  had  never  loved;  she  had  read  of  love, 
49 


And  her  heart  told  her  what  it  was,  yet  one 
Knew  by  the  clear  unshadowed  light  within 
Her  eyes,  that  never  wandered  or  grew  dim 
With  far-off  thought,  the  rosy  god  had  troubled 
Not  her  maiden  dreams. 

"Valoria,"  said 
Her  father  (he  had  given  her  that  name, 
Though  all  the  relatives  pronounced  it  quite 
A  needless  alien  in  the  family  list) 
One  night  as  they  were  resting  after  a  day 
Spent  on  Welsh  hills — "Valoria,  you  are 
So  fond  of  heights  that  if  I  thought  you  would  not 
Attempt  the  Matterhorn  without  a  guide. 
Or  try  a  ride  upon  an  avalanche, 
I  would  take  you  to  the  Alps." 

With  a  quick  burst 
Of  pleasure  she  sprang  up,  and  kneeling  at 
His  side  declared  that  if  he  would  but  go 
She  would  deny  herself  the  Matterhorn 
And  ride  on  nothing  wilder  than  a  mule, 
But  added  quickly  when  she  saw  his  eyes 
Were  dim  and  that  he  did  not  smile  as  he 
Was  wont  at  her  gay  badinage,  "We  are 
Happy  here,  and  if  it  makes  you  sad  to  go 
We  will  stay  at  home,  for  nothing  would  bring  joy 
To  me  that  trailed  along  an  ugly  pain 
For  you." 

"Nay,  little  one,"  he  said,  taking 
Her  in  his  arms,  "the  life  has  died  from  out 
The  pain  of  life  for  me.    It  crept  along 
Through  all  the  years  that  should  have  been  my 

best. 
And  fed  upon  the  dainties  and  the  bloom 
Till  they  were  done,  and  then  I  think  it  starved, 
For  after  long,  slow  yeara  it  ceased  to  move. 
My  thoughts  flew  backward  to  the  time  I  first 
50 


Left  England's  shores,  carrying  with  me  strength 
And  youth,  and  more,  my  daughter,  more,  carried 
Away  what  I  could  not  bring  back.    There,  rest 
Your  head  upon  my  breast,  but  do  not  talk," 
He  added,  as  he  drew  her  close  within 
His  arms. 

The  evening  draped  its  shadows  all 
About  the  room,  while  the  tired  wind  without 
Could  only  stir  the  ivy  vines  across 
The  open  door,  and  in  the  drooping  elm 
A  lonely  night  bird  sang  a  lonely  song. 
"What  is  it,  father?"  asked  Valeria, 
Starting  from  half  sleep. 

„  "I  did  not  speak,  my 

Daughter."  ^ 

,  "Yes,  you  said  'Valoria'  *wice." 

Did  I?    I  must  have  dreamed. 

But  it  is  late, 
And  time  you  were  in  bed;  good  night,  my  darling. 
Go  and  dream  you  are  in  Switzerland." 

There  was  a  wide  high  balcony  that  overlooked 
The  Wye,  thick  overhung  with  vine  and  elm. 
Where  this  rare  girl,  whose  heart  was  all  attune 
To  Nature's  varied  moods,  was  wont  to  take 
Her  last  look  in  the  summer  nights  upon 
A  world  of  full-orbed  silences.    To-night 
She  sought  it  with  a  heart  aglow  with  joy, 
Joy,  that  she  might  behold  that  great  grand  vision 
Set  in  mount  and  cloud,  where  God's  voice  never 

dies 
Away  among  the  hills. 

Should  she  indeed 
See  Switzerland,  the  land  where  centered  all 
Things  strong  and  beautiful,  the  land  whose  voice 
Sounded  the  note  of  freedom  with  such  power 


The  tyrant  heard  God's  warrant  in  the  call 
And  dropped  his  hold  on  that  that  was  not  his, 
The  land  where  Nature  sang  her  grandest  bass 
In  the  strong  tremor  of  the  avalanche 
And   mountain    floods,    that   pour    their    booming 

thunders 
Through  the  echoing  days  ?    Should  she  kneel  at 
The  foot  of  God's  great  hills  and  worship  Him 
Through  His  great  works?    And  might  she  climb 

and  bathe 
Her  unr'ad  forehead  in  the  mist  of  cloud 
That  hung  around  the  Wengern  Alp,  and  see 
The  falling  glaciers  of  Jungfrau,  the  cone 
Of  Silberhorn,  and  gaze  with  dazzled  eyes 
Up  where  the  Matterhorn  held  yet  the  longed- 
For  secrets  of  the  ice  world  hid  away,* 
Amid  the  deep  white  silence  of  its  awful  heights? 


GENEVA 

It  is  not  that  Mount  Blanc  looks  down  from  its 

Eternal  calm  of  ice  and  snow  upon 

The  life  of  flower  and  plash  of  wave  and  warmth 

Of  human  life  below ;  nor  yet  because 

The  war.d  of  beauty  draws  its  magic  ring 

In  shadow  of  the  Jura  over  earth 

And  wave  and  air.    It  is  not  for  this  alone 

Men  gather  to  try  heart  of  liberty. 

Geneva!  rich  in  beauty,  richer  far 

In  memo.'es  of  noble  deeds  that  shall 

Not  shrink  and  perish  at  the  touch  of  death. 

Where  heroes'   names  are  household  words,   and 

where 
Memories  of  martyrs  are  passed  down  from  sire 

*  At  the  time  this  poem  was  written  the  Matterhorn  had 
never  been  ascended. 


To  ion,  like  family  jewels  guarded  with 

Jealous  care.    Here  Chillon  frowns  upon  the  waves 

Below,  and  while  the  heart  aches  at  the  thought 

Of  its  sad  prisoner  in  his  dungeon  rounds. 

It  yet  rejoices  that  at  last  the  prey 

Was  taken  from  the  iron  hand  of  wrong. 

Here  Voltaire  hissed  his  venomed  genius  o'er 

A  world  he  left  more  beggared  in  its  faith 

In  God  and  love  than  when  he  found  it.    From 

Its  heart  have  poured  great  arteries  whose  strong 

Pulsations  burst  all  tyranny  and  made 

Its  people  free;  and  to  its  heart  have  drawn 

The  poet,  the  philosopher,  worker. 

And  dreamer  of  all  lands  and  climes. 

Valoria  was  shown  each  spot  that  claimed 

Historic  interest  or  poetic  fame 

From  Chillon's  dungeon  towers  to  Rousseau's  isle. 

Her  father  formed  a  friendship  with 

An  Englishman,  who  every  year  shook  from 

His  soul  the  blinding  dust  of  crowds,  and  gave 

It  holiday  among  the  hills,  that  it 

Might  drink  the  glowing  cup  God's  hand  holds  out 

To  us  from  places  near  his  throne.    Wendal 

Knew  all  the  secrets  of  the  hills,  knew  where 

They  hid  their  silver  chimes,  and  kept  within 

The  strongholds  of  their  giant  hearts  a  place 

For  man;  and  with  his  strong  arm  plying  his 

Swift  oar  they  floated  many  a  night  upon 

The  moonlit  waters  of  the  gleaming  lake. 

Wendal  and  Mr.  Mooer  talked  much  of  Art 

And  politics,  history  and  poetry. 

With  subtile  essences  of  things  that  come 

And    go,    touching   our    spirits   with    bewildering 

thoughts 
Of  things  that  we  should  know  but  have  forgot ; 
And  often,  shipping  oars,  would  seem  to  reach 
53 


The  farthest  stretch  of  human  thought,  and  sit 

Silent  and  reverent  before  the  veil 

Of  the  unknown,  that  mystic  veil  which  floats 

In  some  rare  hours  so  near  we  almost  feel 

Its  noiseless  f:)Ids  chilling  our  cheek,  and  then 

Receding  in  the  mist  so  high  and  far 

We  may  not  fathom  where  its  limit  lies. 

Valoria  listened,  with  her  face  aglow 

With  thought;  if  Wendal  noticed  it  he  made 

No  sign.    It  was  plain  he  never  would  bear  arms 

Or  win  a  badge  as  carpet  knight.    He  left 

Before  them,  promising  to  meet  among 

The  Alps  where  he  must  hasten  on  to  join 

A  party  for  a  great  ascent. 

Above 
The  vale  of  Lauterbrunn  they  met  again. 
And  during  a  month's  rambles  on  the  hills 
Their  feet  seemed  naturally  to  tread  within 
One  path. 

It  was  the  day  but  one  they  were 
To  leave;  Wendal  came  early  to  their  rooms. 
And  said  the  day  was  glorious,  and  that 
The  slightest  sound  made  music  in  the  air ; 
Even  though  it  started  in  a  discord,  touched 
By  the  echoes  hidden  in  the  hills,  it 
Ended  in  a  chime ;  and  begged  leave  to  act 
As  Miss  Mooer's  guide  that  day  among  the  hills. 
He  was  familiar  with  the  paths  for  miles 
Around,  and  pledged  his  reputation  as 
A  guide  to  bring  her  back  in  safety.    Her 
Father  gave  consent  but  added, 

"I  must  tell 
You  if  there  is  any  chance  for  doubtful  climbing 
She  will  do  it.    She  was  born  an  outlaw. 
All  my  early  scorn  for  bars,  and  longing 
For  the  .  (attainable  I  find  in  her, 

54 


\A  '1 


Therefore  be  sure  you  keep  always  on  guard. 
one  led  me  a  bewildering  chaae  the  day 
Before  you  came.    I  had  to  send  a  careful 
Footed  guide  up  a  steep  height  to  bring  her  down." 
And  you,  Miss  Mooer,"  he  added,  kissing  her 

S?"  >■  1      *"  '"'*  '"'  """  *'""  '"'"''  y°^  master." 
Yes,    laughed  Valeria  with  a  pretty  gesture 
Of  mock  reverence,  "I  will,  most  truly. 
When  I  find  him." 

A     1.     ,  ,    ."^'  "*""'  ^'"»  Mooer,"  said  Wendal 
As  they  left  the  mn,  "that  you  are  to  be 
Closely  watched." 

"It  is  all  because  I  do 
Not  think  that  helplessness  need  always  be 
A  positive  necessity  in  women, 
c"-^V'  °"  *'"^  inspiring  heights  where  one 
Sniffs  freedom  in  the  winds,  it  seems  absurd 
Always  to  be  tucked  under  some  one's  arm. 
Just  like  a  neat  brown  paper  parcel  labeled 
'Touch  with  care';  the  simple  truth  in  all  things 

seems 
The  best.    But  round  and  underlying  all 
Do  you  not  think,"  she  added  with  a  glow 
Of  earnestness  upon  her  fair  young  face, 
"That  here  in  God's  high  places  where  He  speaks 
So  plainly  to  us  through  His  works,  that  we 
Throw  down  instinctively  the  shams  that  have 
Been  built  around  our  souls,  and  speak  ,-  d  act 
Just  true?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Wendal,  gazing  down 
On  her  with  attenfive  face,  "here  I  first 
Learned  to  know  how  grand  a  thing  is  simple  truth, 
And  of  what  simple  elements  our  best 
Things  are  composed.    It  takes  half  a  life  to  show 
Us  this  in  spite  of  Nature's  gentle  lessons. 
And  even  then  it  is  only  learned  by  those 
55 


Whose  iouli  CM  be  attuned  to  God  *nd  Nature. 
In  the  first  flush  of  wealth,  men,  in  building  homes, 
Order  on  varnish,  heavy  bands  of  gold. 
Deep  piles  of  vivid  color,  have  their  table  spread 
With  such  profuseness  that  the  dishes  crowd. 
But  after  years  of  culture  man  discerns 
Profuseness  is  bad  taste,  prefers  the  real  wood 
That  shows  fine  grain,  orders  his  colors  with 
Less  lavish  hand,  and  his  table  ceases  to  groan 
Beneath  its  load.    So,  reaching  down  through  all 
The  half-dead,  senseless,  outside  rims  of  life. 
We  find  the  soul  of  things  is  sweet  and  true; 
Just  the  sweet  'You  and  I'  of  life  make  up 
The  jewels  in  the  rosary  of  years 
Whose  unforgotten  glimmer  throws  the  last 
Sweet  earth  light  in  the  heart  of  age.    A  lamp 
Trimmed  by  a  woman's  hand,  the  opal  homelig^t 
Curtained  from  the  world,  the  mother  with  her 
Baby's  cheek  against  her  own,  its  smile  within 
Her  heart,  all  that  makes  perfect  joy  to  man, 
Is  sweet  and  true.    Heart  of  the  rose  and  heart 
Of  life,  just  simple,  sweet  and  true." 

"Hark!"  said 
Valoria,  pointing  with  her  hand,  "that  bird 
Above  seems  echoing  your  refrain;  its  clear 
Notes  cleave  the  air,  like,  'sweet  and  true,'  and  I 
Believe  that  from  an  Alpine  song-bird  to 
A  human  soul  feeling  around  for  God 
To  hold  it  and  to  make  it  pure,  your  words 
Are  true.    The  bird  sings  what  God  gave  it  while 
The  tired  soul  just  touches  Him 
And  rests." 

"Thank  God,"  said  Wendal,  "that  He  has 
Given  us  such  conditions  on  which  to  build 
Our  lives,  and  that  the  empty  glitter  of 
External  show  declares  itself  the  tinsel 
56 


Sham  it  is  within  the  pretence  of  the  pure 
And  true.    How  often  we  tee  loult  so  stamped 
With  the  clear  mark  of  God  that  they  limply  mutt 
Be  what  they  are!    How  little  the  mere  critic 
Thinks  of  this,  or  knows  that  a  great  soul  that  comet 
To  ut  with  the  pressure  of  God's  fingers  still 
Upon  it,  leaving  it,  maybe,  less  smooth 
Than  other  souls,  can  only  give  us  truth; 
Maybe  in  fragments,  yet  often  in  unbroken 
Crystals." 

.     "Yes,  that  it  why  so  many  souls 
Great  in  simplicity  and  truth  with  power 
To  shew  their  great  thoughts  to  the  world  mine  out 
From  the  wide  dark  the  same  bright  thoughts,  al- 
though 
The  miners  may  be  centuries  apart 
And  neither  knew  the  other  mined.    Then  one 
Must  smile  to  see  the  yard  stick  man  who  does 
The  cntic  in  some  tart  review,  point  out 
With  his  small  measure  of  himself,  and  give 
The  genuine  critic  howl,  'a  plagiarist,' 
As  though  those  voices  from  the  infinite. 
So  vaguely  understood,  those  glittering 
Fragments  of  great  truths  that  drop  at  night 
From  far-off  starry  depths  of  blue,  or  float 
On  sunset  tides  from  shores  of  white  and  gold 
Come  not  to  all  deep  souls,  from  grand  Sophocles 
Down  to  the  Englishman  who  wears  to-day 
So  gracefully  his  Laureate  crown."  • 
"One  can  but  think,"  replied  Valeria, 
"How  strange  that  in  their  grand  march  down  the 

world 
God's  men  and  women  walk  so  much  alone." 
r^^i"  ^'^  ^"  friend,  "the  priest  walks  in  advance. 
We  find  in  every  good  that  men  work  out 
*Tennyaon. 

57 


The  individual  is  the  power.    The  crowd 
You  note  develops  quick  the  brute  in  man. 
A  hot  word  here  and  there  and  a  great  mass 
Of  men  will  glow  at  furnace  heat,  men  who 
Have  mothers  and  hear  children's  prayers,  will  tear 
And  bellow  like  wild  beasts  of  prey.    What  we 
Call  culture  never  can  drive  from  its  old 
Abode  the  brute  in  man.    It  chains  him  down, 
Encircles  him  with  walls,  turns  the  strong  lock, 
And  there  he  lies  with  nose  on  earth,  but  let 
Some  scent  of  blood,  some  sound  from  unforgotten 
Jungle  where  his  mates  are  free,  some  muttered  echo 
Of  ungoverned  thought,  but  penetrate  his  cage; 
At  once  the  body  answers  to  the  power 
Within,  the  sense  of  brute  power  rises  to  its  height. 
And  then — God  help  the  man  who  thinks  he  holds 
The  key.    No  human  power  can  tame  the  brute. 
But  once  there  walked  the  lanes  of  Nazareth 
A  Christ  who  dwelt  among  the  simple  folk. 
And  blessed  their  homes,  talked  with  tiied  women, 

dropping  words 
Of  balm  on  their  bruised  lives,  held  a  child's  hand 
While  waiting  for  a  mending  net,  or  on 
The  sea  slept  in  the  boat  until  His  friends 
The  fishermen  had  need  of  Him;  and  so 
Healed  and  made  sacred  all  their  simple  lives. 
He  walked  alone;  in  that  I  often  think 
The  world's  reformers  shadow  the  Great  Type. 
The  rush  and  glitter  of  the  world  went  on, 
And  Roman  scorn  and  Jewish  hate  could  find 
Naught  but  the  scourge,  the  crown  of  thorns,  the 


And  yet  His  power  has  overthrown  the  kingdom  set 
Upon  the  seven  imperial  hills  of  Rome, 
Scatt>:red  the  Jewish  tribes,  and  holds  the  keys 
Of  life  and  death  to  all  the  waiting  world. 


It  is  His  power  alone  can  drive  the  brute 
Forever  from  the  heart  of  man. 

We  give  to  men  and  women  who  after  Him 

Save  the  world,  the  tempest  of  our  scorn.    We  hack 

1  heir  hves,  forgetting  that  there  never  was 

A  strong,  pure,  loving  worker  in  the  world 

Whose  own  heart  did  not  hold  unmeasured  spaces 

i'or  the  sympathy  of  his  kind.    We  let 

The  hungry  spaces  echo  to  the  call; 

Meanwhile  with  steadfast  face  and  eyes, 

That  see  God's  own  grand  meaning  in  the  work 

He  does,  the  world's  reformers  go  their  way  alone; 

Bu.  when  by  aid  of  light  which  they  have  left 

1  he  world  has  slowly  studied  up  to  them, 

We  lay  our  books  open  at  the  page 

Where  they  left  off,  and  clap  our  hands,  and  hang 

*resh  garland-  over  long-forgotten  graves, 

And  search  the  marble  quarries  of  the  world 

1  o  ftnd  a  background  for   heir  names." 

~,      ^  „    ,  ,     .  Meanwhile 

1  hey  talked  so  earnestly  they  had  climbed  height 
Un  height,  now  pausing  to  admire  deep  vales 
Below,  and  then  to  lift  their  eyes  to  where 
White  mountain  tops  pierced  the  metaUic  blue. 
Wendal  would  sometimes  take  her  hand  to  aid 
Her  m  ascent  or  steady  her  upon 
A  height,  and  once  he  stood  across  a  path 
She  wished  to  climb,  and  said  so  quietly 
Between  his  other  talk,  "You  will  not  go 
Here,  Miss  Mooer." 

They  found  their  dinner  waiting 
In  a  cave,  an  old  resort  of  Wendal's,  but 
Unknown  to  Valeria  until  her  guide 
Had  ushered  her  within  its  cool,  gray  depths. 
To  find  a  feast  prepared,  as  Wendal  said, 
59 


By  mountain  gods.    When  they  had  dined  with  gay 
Pretence  of  being,  now  Swiss  peasants,  then 
Pilgrims  to  some  far-oil  sacred  shrine,  they 
Still  pursued  their  wanderings  up  and  down^ 
And  came  at  length  upon  a  curious  spot 
Where  a  bluf{  mountain  ended  suddenly 
Beside  a  lake,  with  just  a  footpath  left 
Upon  the  shore.    Valeria  sprang  forward 
And  exclaimed, 

"Now  this  is  old  Thermopylae, 
And  I  am  a  Greek  and  will  not  let  you  pass." 
Catching  her  merry  mood,  he  stood  grasping 
With  martial  digni^  his  alpine  stock 
As  though  it  were  a  sword,  and  said, 

"Fair  Greek, 
Although  you  stand  alone  as  Greeks  before 
The  world,  although  before  your  gleaming  blades 
Xerxes'  Immortals  have  been  put  to  flight. 
And  Persia  learns  the  name  of  Marathon, 
Yet  know  that  I  will  win  the  pass  or  die, 
And  I  will  win,  with  weapons  never  yet 
Turned  back,  all  the  unconquered  province  that 
May  lie  beyond.    For  what  to  me  is  all 
That  lies  this  side  of  thee,  fair  Greek?"  he  added  in 
A  softer  tone  with  glowing  eye.    "And  know 
That  I  too  am  a  Greek,  and  I  will  win." 
Then  springing  nimble-footed  as  a  roe 
Upon  the  rock  that  leveled  with  her  head. 
He  stooped  and  with  his  strong  arms  pinioned  both 
Of  hers,  and  lifting  her  as  though  she  were 
A  child,  he  placed  her  on  the  rock,  then  took 
The  pass,  and  called,  "Surrender." 

"Surrender?" 
Cried  Valoria  with  well-affected  scorn, 
"Surrender,  to  a  Greek,  and  from  a  Greek! 
It  is  plain  you  have  traveled  far  and  have 
60 


Learned  foreign  words,  for  though  I  have  journeyed 

to 
The  farthest  stretch  of  our  blue  isles,  that  word 
I  never  heard.    I  never  heard  an  infant 
Lisp  it  or  an  old  man  mutter  it  in 
His  querulous  talk,  in  all  the  land  of  Greece! 
1  he  soft  seductive  airs  that  come  up  from 
The  lawless  sea  to  seek  acquaintance  with 
Our  mountain  winds,  ne'er  whisper  that." 

TT    .   , ,  ,      ,      ,  But  still 

«e  held  her  hands  and  kept  his  steady  eyes 
Upon  her  face  whose  color  came  and  went 
And  called  again,  "Surrender." 

....  ,„  "But  I  am  a  Greek." 

And  so  am  L 

Ti.      ,     .    .    ^^''"=  *^y  had  played  Thermopyli, 

I  he  clouds  had  hastily  gathered  into  force. 

And  now  came  rushing  down  the  mountain  sides 

With  dark  and  threatening  front,  and  thunder  burst 

VVith  vivid  lightning  and  large  drops  of  rain. 

Valoria  felt  the  shadow  and  looked  up. 

The  very  hills,  to  her  unused  to  Alpine 

*f  ™s,  seemed  to  be  tumbling  on  their  heads. 

Wendal  had  often  met  before  such  bursts 

Of  Nature's  passion  in  his  Alpine  tours. 

And  watched  with  zest  their  play  and  fury  bursts; 

But  this  frail  girl  whom  he  had  led  so  far 

Upon  the  hills,  how  should  he  shelter  her 

From  Nature's  rage?    He  caught  her  quickly  from 

1  he  rock,  as  a  blue  sheet  of  lightning  veiled 

Her  form  and  said, 

"Valoria"  (it  was 
The  first  time  he  had  called  her  name),  "I  wish 
This  jeweled  day  had  held  no  harm  for  you." 
Then  there  arose  a  new  strength  in  her  heart; 
A  strong  faith  in  a  human  presence  held 
6i 


^li 


Her  firm — the  faith  that  means  so  much  in  women. 
She  said  with  quiet  trustfulness, 

"Do  as 
You  would  if  you  were  out  alone." 

"Not  quite," 
He  answered,  smiling,  "for  probably  I  would 
Not  seek  shelter,  but  that  you  must  have;  we 
Are  two  good  English  miles  from  the  hotel. 
But  there  is  a  chalet  not  far  down  will  give 
You  a  Swiss  welcome." 

The  way  was  short  but  rough, 
And  the  rain  poured  in  floods ;  but  only  once 
She  paused  and  hid  her  face  when  the  blue  lightning 
Flashed  so  near  it  veiled  her  eyes,  and  once  he 

snatched 
Her  close  wilhin  his  arms  as  a  tall  tree 
In  lightning  blaie  flew  past  them  in  its  fiery  course ; 
And  when  he  let  her  loose  there  was  no  color 
On  his  lip  or  cheek.    They  found  a  friendly  shelter 
At  the  chalet,  with  a  woman  and  two  girls, 
Who  brought  Valoria  their  holiday 
Attire  while  they  should  dry  her  dripping  robes, 
And  unloosened  the  braids  of  her  dark  hair  to 
Dry  about  her  waist,  and  piled  high  the  Are 
Upon  the  ample  hearth.    But  stiU  the  rain 
Poured  down,  and  the  thick  clouds  hung  o'er  them 

like 
A  pall,  but  brought  no  gloom;  the  fire  that  blazed 
Upon  the  hearth  gave  not  more  warmth  and  light 
Than  that  which  glowed  within  her  heart.    A  soft 
Light  rose  within  her  eyes,  and  her  sweet  face 
Broke  often  into  smiles  without  apparent  cause. 
And  a  voice  sounding  through  ear  and  heart  spoke 

sweet 
And  low  her  name.    She  never  knew  before 
What  new  earth  music  might  lie  in  a  name. 


hhe  lay  upon  a  couch  to  rest  and  seemed 
To  feel  his  strong  clasp  as  he  held  her  when 
The  pine  tree  fell  so  near,  and  heard  again 
Two  words,  two  quick  impulsive  words  he  uttered 
As  he  held  her  there,  and  as  she  thought  of  them 
A  rosy  smile  that  started  from  her  lips 
Spread  in  glad  ripples  o'er  her  glowing  face. 
She  smiled,  but  could  not  sleep,  although  she  had 
Been  left  alone  and  bid  to  sleep.    Let  rfiose 
Seek  sleep  within  whose  heart  the  ashes  are  long 

dead 
And  undisturbed  save  by  the  cold  white  finger 
Of  a  buried  past  that  will  not  rest  but  rises 
From  its  grave,  and  rakes  among  the  ashes  for 
Some  hope  of  flame,  and  those  who  wander  in 
The  valleys  always,  who  never  tread  the  hills 
Or  kiss  the  clouds.    Bring  sleep  to  those  whose  lives 
Are  withered  bud,  and  fruit,  and  flower,  but  seek 
Not  now  to  still  the  song  bird  in  thy  heart, 
Valoria.    Wait  until  coming  years  shall  press 
So  heavily  on  thy  waking  hours,  thou  shalt 
Thank  God  for  the  dumb  oblivion  of  sleep. 

But  the  rain  ceased,  the  clouds  rolled  down,  and 

soon 
The  clear  ringing  mountain  air,  leagued  with  new 
Sunshine,  ruled  again.    They  lingered  yet  beside 
The  chalet  fire  to  wait  the  lessening  of 
The  streams  that  ran  in  the  fierce  pride 
Of  sudden  power  after  the  rain ;  and  though 
Wendal  had  often  sat  quiet  amid 
The  general  talk  of  the  hotel,  yet  now 
He  flashed   keen   sparkling  words,   that  scattered 

gems 
Of  thought  as  clear  and  well  defined  as  crystals 
Fresh  from  the  bosom  of  a  mine,  across 

63 


I, 


The  hearth  stone  of  the  chalet  fire.    The  girl 
Sat  listening  with  her  earnest  face  half  shaded 
By  the  ripples  of  loosened  hair,  leaned  on 
Her  hand — a  hand  that  poise  itself  which  way 
It  would  was  certain  of  an  attitude 
Of  grace. 

What  is  it  whispers  to  the  soul, 
When  all  serene  she  sits  and  gazes  at 
The  glowing  face  of  some  new  joy  that  comes 
To  meet  her  on  her  way  with  hand  outstretched 
And  sweet  intelligence  within  its  eyes, 
"It  is  the  last"?    Whatever  sadly  missioned 
Thing  it  is,  it  must  have  whispered  then,  for 
Valoria's  bright  face  seemed  to  enter 
Suddenly  a  shadow  as  they  rose  to  go. 
She  looked  back  lingeringly  at  the  fire 
Dying  upon  the  'hearth  and  said,  "I  wish 
That  one  could  always  live  upon  the  hills 
And  eat  in  mountain  caves  and  rest  in  chalets." 
Then,  blushing,  added,  "I  mean  that  all  our  friends 

And  all "     "I  understand,"  Wendal  broke  in 

!>o  quietly  that  her  blushes  faded.    "You  wish 

That  life  were  on  the  hills,  breathing  ever 

Their  elastic  air  above  all  discords,  all 

Low  aims  and  petty  motives,  above  all 

The  doubtful  essences  that  mix  in  cities 

Or  where  men  are  thickest,  that  make  the  mock 

Elixir  of  our  lives;  far  above  all 

Artificial  wants  to  take  at  morning  each 

Day's  gifts  fresh  from  God's  hand  and  give  them 

back 
To  him  to  keep  for  us  at  night,  while  His 
Dear  hand  shall  touch  our  eyelids  with  the  seal 
Of  sleep." 

"Do  you  not  think,"  she  asked,  "that  we 
Are  nearer  God  upon  the  hills?" 


He  earnestly,    and  nearer  each  other;  thank 
Him  for  that." 

Below  them,  hidden  here  and  there 
By  juttmg  peab,  and  shrined  in  loveliness, 

On'h-n"r/»^""l "'•"''  °/ Lauterbrunn,  while  hills 
On  hills  lifted  their  cold  proud  heads  above 
Great  clouds  that  hung  upon  their  bosoms.    Sudden 
Ueep  abysses  gave  a  fierce  grand  welcome 
1  o  the  torrents'  fall.    Within  the  old  brown 
Chalet,  perched  upon  the  mountain's  .ides,  were 
(jathered  aU  the  elements  that  make  life's 
Joy  or  woe.     Grandeur  held  tight  the  dainty 
Hand  of  beauty  in  his  clasp,  and  often 
Touched  her  gentle  forehead  with  a  kiss. 
Ihe   twilight   shades   were   gathering  when    thev 
reached  ' 

The  irn;  the  spell  of  silence  was  upon 
Iheir  lips;  their  souls  were  bathing  in  that  full 
lide  calm  that  words  disturb  but  never  may 
txpress;  but  as  they  paused  a  moment  on 
1  he  balcony,  Valoria  said  with  her 
Good  night,  "I  thank  you,  Mr.  Wendal,  for 
Ihis  day;  I  never  shall  forget  it,  it 
Has  been  so  full  of  pleasure,"  and  added 
With  a  tinge  of  sadness  in  her  voice,  lifting 
Her  eyes  to  a  high  peak  where  they  had  stood 
X  hat  day,  that  was  now  silvered  by  the  moon, 
Ihis  is  our  last  day  on  the  hills;  you  know 
We  leave  to-morrow." 

A„j    I.  ij-       •    L       ^^  *°°^  ^"  ungloved  hand. 
And   holding  it  between  both  his  own,  said, 

ijod  grant  us  many  days  upon  the  hills." 
He  added,  as  a  moonbeam  crossed  her  face 

Promise  that  you  will  rest  at  once  when  you 
Go  m.      Then  he  held  her  hand  a  moment  to 
65 


Hi»  lip«  and  said,  "Good  night,  Valoria." 
"Good  night,"  she  said  again. 

Wendal  stood  for 

A  moment  gazing  at  the  spot  that  'he  . 

Had  quitted.    Meanwhile  a  picture  of  Valoria 
Mooer  as  she  had  stood  upon  the  balcony, 
Her  mantle  falling  from  her  arm  while  white 
Moonbeams  held  the  light  against  her  sweetest 
Face  and  played  among  the  shadows  of  her  hair, 
Was  photographed  by  love's  strong  light  on  heart 
And  brain.    Let  him  mark  it  well!  for  in  long 
Coming  years,  in  deserts  and  in  crowds,  he 
Will  strive  with  wearily  closed  lids  to  bring 
It  back  again.  . 

Then  he  went  in  to  Join 
A  club  friend,  Howeth,  just  up  a  week  from  Pans, 
Who  met  him  with,  "So,  Wendal,  you  are  en- 
slaved?" .  ,  , 
"Enslaved,  enslaved  1     No,  that  is  not  the  word; 
I  have  stepped  where  Dante  stood  with  her  he  loved 
Upon  the  highest  arc  within  the  circle  of 
The  zodiac,  and  I  could  stand  with  her 
Safe  gathered  in  my  arms,  and  see  all  earth 
Removed  without  a  sigh,  sure  that  where  she 
Was,  heaven  was  not  far  off." 

"The  Lady  Mooer 

Is  in  the  circle  too,  I  fancy,  by 
The  deepening  color  on  her  cheek  and  quick 
Averted  eye  whene'er  I  spoke  of  you. 
I  tried  the  effect  of  your  name  on  her  more 
Than  once.    Jove!  it  was  chr.rming,  ]ust  coming  as 
I  have,  from  faces  where  all  feeling,  like  a  child 
Unruly,  is  locked  upstairs  or  in  dark 
Basement,  and  not  once  allowed  to  come  within 
The  drawing  room  or  glance  out  the  front  windows 
Till  thi-  quests  are  gone.    But  I  tell  you,  sir, 
66 


You  have  somethinK  there  to  curb  and  tame.    I  saw 
Her  flash  defiance  from  her  eyes  and  lips, 
The  other  day,  at  some  old  piece  of  humbug 
Long  crusted  by  the  sacred  touch  of  time. 
Before  a  patient  group  of  worshippers 
Of  conservatisms.    Her  father  sat  among 
Them  too." 

"The  scorn  of  petty  plot  or  trick 
I  cannot  admire  too  much  in  her  whole  nature; 
Its  perfect  truthfulness  shines  like  a  diamond 
Hilt  that  holds  a  gleaming  blade,  and  if  she  needs 
A  steady  rein,  you  know  I  always  wanted 
Things  to  tame.    When  I  was  a  boy  I  have 
Often  worked  for  weeb  and  never  once  gave  up 
To  make  a  timid  wild  hare  come  and  eat 
From  out  my  hand ;  and  as  I  older  grew, 
A  horse  that  would  throw  any  other  rider 
Was  my  pride.    Excessive  tameness  in  most 
Any  thing  is  wearisome  to  me.    I  know 
It  is  much  prized  in  women;  but  I  have 
Not  cared  for  your  tame,  neat  cream-candy  type 
Of  girls ;  they  make  most  excellent  vinegar 
After  a  slight  exposure  to  the  sun ; 
You  do  not  catch  one  of  them  looking  back 
With  clear,  intelligent,  responsive  eyes 
Like  some  grand  creature,  when  she  feels  the  rein. 
They  neither  can  command  or  mould  life  as 
Full  toned  women  who  understand  the  whole 
Run  of  the  gamut,  and  know  all  the  stops — 
When  to  draw  them  out  and  when  to  close.    They 
Understand  the  beauty  of  deep  bass  or 
Finest  semibreve,  and  by  their  perfect 
Knowledge  draw  the  stops  and  teach  the  keys  to 
Make  most  self-forgetful  harmony  out 
Of  life's  roughest  passages,  while  the  sweet 
Girl,  who  thrums  forever  on  her  c  and  e 
67 


And  knows  no  more;  when  c  and  e  are  out 

Of  tune,  must  sit  quite  dumb  and  helpleis. 

Here  is  a  woman  strong  in  character, 

Hartiionious  in  thought,  amenable 

To  reason  and  to  right,  and  if  at  times 

She  wants  a  firm  hand  on  the  silken  rein. 

What  grander  realm  could  the  very  king  of  men 

Aspire  to  make  his  own?" 

"He  who  does  it 
Surely  is  a  king,"  replied  his  friend. 

"He 
Must  understand,"  continued  Wendal,  "well 
That  grand  completeness  which  God  meant  when 

He 
Thought  out  a  woman ;  and  so  surround  the  weaker, 
Sweeter  life  with  stronger  love  that  holds  control. 
Not  for  mere  brute  will's  sake,  but  that  the  broader 
Life  like  our  home  garden  walls  might  shield  from 
Harm  our  lily  and  our  rose  of  life." 
"I  wish  you  joy,  dear  friend,  and  if  your  rare 
Blush  rose  should  prove  a  difficult  one  to 
Fasten  on  a  wall,  its  wondrous  fragrance 
Will  repay  the  care." 

"Some  choice  instruments, 
You  know,  exposed  to  any  winds  give  out 
No  discord.     But  let  us  go;  there  is  a  view 
Below  I  want  to  show  you,  where  the  river 
Gathers  up  her  silver  robes  and  makes  a  plunge 
To  unknown  depths  below." 


i '  a 


SONG 

Blow,  summer  winds  from  Orient  Isles  I 
Through  summer  days  prolong 
Your  incense  breathing  choruses 
In  fullest  tide  of  song. 
68 


IS 


Bloom,  lummer  flowers,  in  iummer  fields! 
Empty  each  perfumed  cup 
Upon  the  txMom  of  the  winds, 
Let  glad  hearts  drink  it  up. 

Gleam,  Eastern  skies,  with  rosy  light  I 
Flash  out  your  golden  beams 
Across  the  zenith  to  where  dips 
The  Western  Isle  of  dreams. 

Shine  bright  upon  us,  stars  of  night, 
From  azure  fielii,  afar  I 
Build  up  to  heaven  a  shining  track. 
And  set  the  gates  ajar. 


BCX3K  SECOND 


AT  HOME 

The  Wye  dinced  brighter  in  the  morning  lun, 
And  tang  its  songs  in  lower  notes  it  night, 
All  nature  seemed  aglow  with  newer  life, 
And  offered  sweeter  incense  at  the  gates 
That  spread  afar  their  gold  and  crimson  bars, 
Glad  to  receive  the  waning  light,  while  night 
Let  fall  the  noiseless  draperies  of  her  robe 
On  wood  and  vale  and  flower.    Valoria's 
Face  seemed  lighted  by  the  rosy  reflex 
Of  a  smile  within  that  wandered  to  her  eyes 
And  led  them  far  away  among  green  hills ; 
And  often,  too,  her  feet  would  climb  some  height. 
And  die  would  sit  ai<d  dream  and  dream  of  gladness 
That  the  sig^t  of  hills  brought  to  her  heart.    O 

dream 
Of  life!  drenched  in  dawn's  rosy  light,  must  you 
Fade  to  gray  daylight  at  the  serpent's  touch  ? 
O  golden  cup  of  life's  elixir!  where 
Is  gathered  all  the  perfume  and  the  essence 
Of  this  life  of  ours,  must  you  fall  and  break 
And  mingle  with  the  clay,  staining  in  your  fall. 
Maybe,  some  garment  that  can  not  be  worn 
Again,  but  laid  away  with  brolcen  pieces 
Of  the  golden  cup. 

Days  wore  to  weeks.    A  look 
Hinting  surprise  grew  up  within  the  hazel 
Depths  of  her  sweet  eyes,  for  linked  with  Wendal's 
Farewell  words  came  the  request  that  he  might 

write. 
"And  after  that,"  he  had  said,  "I  hope  to  see 
You  in  your  home  in  Wales."    But  yet  no  tidings 
came; 


Her  heart  hid  leimed  to  flath  itt  tumult  to 
Her  chuigini;  cheek,  like  wme  ihy  bird  that  ihows 
Iti  neat  by  flying,  when  the  poitman  knocked. 
Weeki  spread  themselves  to  months ;  the  months  told 

round 
A  year;  and  yet  no  word — no  sign.    She  was 
So  young,  her  heart  unused  to  the  sharp  touch 
Of  pain.     She  sat  alone  with  fixed  s.-^"  eves. 
The  life  gone  out  from  all  the  life  n  umui; 
But  ever  living  over  that  white  day 
Upon  the  Hills.    Alul  for  us  wfn  '  cd 
Such  possibilities  of  joy  shut  cln  r 
Within  or  barred  widiout,  that  wo    ;onlJ  bt.ini 
For  years  upon  the  memory  of  s  day  ; 

Then  there  came  a  letter  from  a  ci.jsir 
Of  her  mother's  house — a  pleasant  uniiinr. 
Comment  upon  men  and  things  in   the  j;rtat 
London  world — who  said,  after  much  car-less 
Gossip,  that  he  had  long  been  promising 
Himself  a  trip  to  Wales;  he  longed  to  make 
Acquaintance  with  his  relatives,  the  more 
As  he  had  heard  Valoria  had  quite 
Surpassed  in  loveliness  the  most  rare  promise 
Of  her  nursery  days.    He  would  be  there  at  once 
But  that  he  was  detained  to  help  fulfil 
A  promise  made  a  friend  that  he  should  be 
His  second  at  his  marriage.     This  friend. 
One  Leo  Wendal,  he,  of  all  men,  would 
Not  disoblige.    They  had  been  closest  friends 
In  college  and  in  club.    Their  names,  in  fact. 
Rang  into  one;  there  was,  indeed,  a  vague 
Chance  that  the  marriage  might  not  occur; 
Wendal  had  more  than  once  been  on  the  eve 
Of  such  a  step  but  for  some  cause,  he  could 
Not  lay  just  what,  there  had  been  a  rupture 
71 


k 


Always  when  one  most  expected  orange 
Blossoms  and  white  gloves.     He  loved  his  friend 

so  much, 
And  it  was  so  very  foreign  from  his  nature 
To  suspect,  that  he  still  held  faith  in  him,  though 
Of  course  he  was  the  last  to  justify 
A  thing  like  broken  faith — especially 
With  a  woman.    Such  things  were  done  he  knew; 
Indeed  faith  could  be  broken  without  a  word. 
As  it  could  be  pledged,  but  never  would  he 
Think  so  badly  of  his  friend.    No!  he  would 
Scorn  the  very  thought;  but  had  his  cousin 
Mooer  in  intercourse  with  men,  ever  observed 
That  often  glaring  weaknesses  (he  would 
Call  them  by  no  name  more  harsh)  were  grafted 
In  with  genius?    But  all  this  was  doubtless 
Quite  uninteresting  to  his  cousin   Mooer. 
He  had  been  led  to  mentioning  his  friend 
Because  through  him  his  longed  for  visit  might 
Meet  some  delay ;  but  until  they  should  meet 
Would  his  dear  friends  in  Wales  think  of  him  as 
Their  loving  relative, 

Hugh  Waterford. 
He  followed  soon  upon  his  le''e: — a  keen 
Eyed  gentleman,  supple  of  limb,  and  free 
Of  tongue,  with  soft  bland  words  rounded  in  periods 
Grateful  to  the  ear,  and  full  of  graceful 
Gallantries,  with  swift  attention  to  all 
Ladies'  wants  in  bringing  a  forgotten  fan 
Or  dropped  bouquet,  or  chasing  worsted  balls 
In  carpet  flight.    The  gaping,  haunted  cavern 
Of  Valoria's  life,  with  so  much  lost 
Where  all  had  been,  received  the  sounds  of  life 
This  man  brought  gratefully.    Its  dreary  ghosts 
Sometimes  would  send  a  chill  of  horror  through 
Her  veins.    Her  life  had  been  so  full  of  blessing, 

7a 


Rounding  in  such  graceful  harmony  with  God's 

world  ; 
And  she  had  rlimbed  with  such  glad  feet  upon 
The  Hills,  and  there  had  met  the  presence  whose 
Strong  life  had  thrilled  across  her  own,  drawing 
From  it  such  music  as  the  gods  were  glad  to  hear. 
Her  king  had  crowned  her  on  the  heights ;  they  had 
Descended  to  the  plains,  and  then — and  then — 
Drowning  men  catch  at  straws,  and  so  a  heart, 
Groping  in  utter  darkness  round  and  round 
The  fatal  spot  where  fate's  black  hand  has  snatched 
Its  joy  away,  may  often  catch  some  bit 
Of  colored  glass  and  ask  itself  in  sheer 
Despair,  "Can  I  close  my  eyes  and  make  it  seem 
The  diamond  that  I  lost?" 

When  this  cousin  heard 
From  Mr.  Mooer  that  they  had  met  his  friend 
Upon  the  Hills,  he  met  it  with  surprise 
And  said,  "Indeed  I  how  strange  he  never  told 
Me.     I  shall  challenge  him  when  I  return 
For  such  neglect  of  my  fair  cousin  here. 
Wendal,  too!  so  much  a  connoisseur  in 
Ladies'  charms." 

"Pray,"  said  Valoria,  "let  him  go  unscathed — 
We  have  no  wish  to  cross  his  path  again; 
And  as  for  you,  I  bind  you  to  the  peace 
About  his  name;  I  beg  you  will  not  let 
Us  hear  it  once  again." 

Then  her  white  fingers 
Flashed  along  the  sounding  keys  in  clashing 
Music  of  swift  sounds.    Her  voice,  too,  gave  its  full 
Rich  tones  to  battle  songs  and  ringing  choruses. 
Grand  old  marches,  songs  of  victory,  not 
Low  winding  notes  that  by  their  silver  links 
Join  some  far  thought  upon  the  edge  of  life 
As  she  had  used  to  draw  from  minor  keys 

73 


When  one  had  listened  to  her  on  the  H31s. 
When  but  a  week  had  passed  it  pew  to  seem 
Hugh  Waterford  pervaded  all  things.     He 
Knew   all   the   boundaries  of   Moocr's  lands  and 

guessed 
With  shrewdness  at  their  valuation,  made 
Himself  at  home  among  the  tenants,  dropped 
Small  silver  bits  to  children,  chatted  long 
And  laughed  most  afiably  with  all,  and  when 
He  went  away  there  seemed  a  void.    Before 
He  went  he  asked  his  cousins  Mooer  for  their 
Consent  to  win  Valoria's  hand;  should  he 
Gain  such  consent,  and  should  he  win,  his  life 
Would  be  only  too  short  to  testify 
His  obligation  and  make  known  hiti  love. 
The  mother  quickly  gave  consent.    "A  man 
They  knew  so  well,  one  of  her  own,  the  heir 
Of  sound  estates,  no  chances  of  deception  here." 
The  father's  eyes  grew  troubled  and  he  spoke 
Not  for  a  time.    At  length  he  answered  him, 
"I  draw  no  rein  upon  my  daughter's  heart, 
But  know  that  she  may  safely  follow  where 
It  leads." 

When  to  Valoria  he  made 
His  suit  for  love,  she  answered,  with  her  eyes 
Fixed  on  some  distant  hills,  "I  like  you,  cousin. 
But  like  is  very  far  from  love.     Love  dwells 
Upon  the  Hills  among  its  gods,  while  like 
Walks  down  beside  the  valley  streams." 

He  said, 
"I  am  content  to  be  a  valley  stream 
If  only  you  will  walk  beside.    It  is  said 
That  heights  are  cold,  and  I  know  well  that  there 
The  archers  strike  with  surest  aim.    There  are 
Many  wounded  ones  upon  the  Hills.    Is  my 
Sweet  cousin  strong  enough  to  face  the  flying 

74 


Arrowt  and  December  blasts?    Let  the  vale  shield 
Her  with  its  arms  and  heart." 

She  answered,  while 
The  distance  in  her  eyes  seemed  to  have  reached 
Some  unseen  height,  "Let  me  wallc  up  and  down 
The  valleys  for  a  time  and  see  if  I 
May  draw  love  down  from  its  high  place  to  dwell 
With  me.     But  mind,  I  give  you  yet  no  lover's 
ri^t."  

A  month  in  London,  then  again  to  Wales. 
Meanwhile  he  wrote  and  mentioned  that  his  friend, 
Whose  name  was  contraband  by  her  whose  wish 
To  him  should  after  this  be  law,  had  missed 
Him  sadly  and  had  tendered  him  his  most 
Sincere  congratulations,  when  he  had 
Confided  to  his  trust  the  one  most  cherished 
Secret  of  his  heart  and  hope  in  life.    He  had 
Just  left  for  Abyssinia,  having  a  taste 
For  travel  in  outlandish  lands,  and  said 
"He  hoped  he  should  be  gone  for  years." 

Hugh  Waterford  again  took  up  his  home. 

And  spread  his  presence  in  the  daily  life 

Of  her  whose  love  he  sought  to  win,  while  Mooer 

Kept  close  to  his  books.    Valeria  walked 

And  rode  with  him,  and  often  by  his  side 

Would  float  in  her  light  skill  and  dip  an  oar 

In  the  bright  waters.     Sometimes  she  paused  upon 

Her  oar  to  think  of  how  the  light  fell  on 

Geneva's  lake,  and  how  her  king  looked  as 

Hit  steady  oar  sent  bursting  pearls  along 

The  deep  blue  wave.    Then  a  look,  such  as  a  bird 

That  sees  its  hope  alone  in  flight  might  cast 

From  gilded  cage,  grew  in  her  eyes  while  Waterford 

Would  chatter  his  small  talk,  from  which  all  life 

7S 


iU: 


Seemed  to  have  dropped,  ceaselessly  on.    He  failed 
To  bring  the  freshness  that  he  brought  before, 
But  went  his  paces  nimbly  over,  told 
The  same  old  stories,  made  the  same  remarks 
In  the  same  places,  showed  a  son's  interest 
In  Mooer's  lands  and  bank  accounts.    It  was  hard 
For  her  to  hear  all  this  and  then  recall 
The  infinite  variety  of  that  other  mind. 
That  like  a  many  octaved  key-board  under 
The  fingers  of  a  skilled  organist. 
Gave  quick  responses  to  the  farthest  touch. 
Yet  to  Valeria  he  brought  all  that 
His  nature  knew  of  lOve;  she  was  his  shrine, 
He  worshipped  her  while  she  sat  patiently 
And  took  the  offerings  that  he  brought,  and  praised 
Their  beauty  with  far  wandering  eyes.    But  her 
Soul  starved;  she  had  no  shrine  for  worship;  she 
Looked  down  to  him.     Had  he  been  strong  even 
With  roughness,  she  had  learned  to  lift  her  eyes; 
But  this  smooth,  neat,  round  atom  of  a  man — 
How  could  she  worship  any  good  in  him? 
She  longed  for  love  to  lift  her  to  such  heights 
That  all  ignoble  things  should  be  forgot, 
To  draw  her  to  its  heart  as  the  great  sun 
Draws  dew.    She  thought  of  Wendal  always  on 
The  Hills,  but  here  there  were  no  heights  to  climb. 
Only  long  flats  of  barren  sand.     Meanwhile 
Her  father  watched  her  with  a  saddened  eye; 
His  heart  misgave  him  that  she  could  not  do 
The  things  she  strove  with  such  strong  will  to  do. 
It  hurt  him  like  a  new  edge  in  his  heart 
To  think  that  the  bright  iris  braid  that  spanned 
Her  young  brow  on  the  Hills  should  be  toned  down 
To  sombre  tints,  and  that  she,  too,  must  wear 
The  neutral  colors  on  her  breast  to  counterfeit 
The  blood  red  sign  of  love. 
76 


What  curse  is  on  us  in  this  lower  sphere? 

Is  it  the  old  one  yet?  or  is  a  new 

One  bred  for  each  new  joy  that  lifts  its  head 

Above  the  rim  of  earth,  and  strives  to  lay 

It  on  a  human  breast?    O  God!  we  lift 

Up  helpless  hands  to  Thee  and  ask  Thee  why? 

While  those  who  question  not  but  take  all  things 

For  granted  as  they  come,  shake  pious  heads 

At  us  and  tell  us  to  put  down  our  hands: 

Thou  knowest  there  are  times  that  we  need  aid 

Of  holy  ones  to  hold  back  cursings. 

One  day  Mooer  sat  alone,  lost  in  a  dream 

Of  bitter-sweets.    Valoria  came  to  him 

And,  kneeling  on  the  hassock  at  his  feet. 

Put  her  clasped  hands  upon  his  knees.    He  saw 

At  once  that  the  caged  bird  was  gone  from  out 

Her  eyes;  the  old,  clear  light  reigned  once  again 

Within  their  hazel  depths. 

With  a  quick  glance 
Of  her  old  playfulness,  she  said,  "Your  child 
Has  come  to  claim  congratulations;  she 
This  day  has  overthrown  a  house  builded 
On  sand,  cast  down  an  image  and  unloosed 
A  claim  that  bound  her,  every  link  of  which 
Was  made  of  brass  and  eating  like  a  canker 
At  her  heart." 

Then  added  with  more  earnestness, 
"My    father,   you   have   known    how   eagerly 
I  tried  to  build  ray  house  with  uncut  stones 
And  urged  by  pride  to  fill  the  gaping  void 
Of  life  with  the  wan  semblance  of  a  real  love. 
And  how  I  tried,  hoping  I  might  deceive 
Myself,  to  call  each  stranded  hope  I  laid 
For  my  foundation  stones,  a  thing  of  new 
Sprung  life  and  beauty.     God  forgive  me  that 
I  builded  such  a  thing,  meaning  to  call 

77 


It  by  «  sacred  name.    Then  my  white  imige 

That  I  made  the  center  of  my  system, 

I  went  and  kneeled  before  it  day  by  day 

In  worship  form,  crowning  it  with  my  fairest, 

Choicest  flowers,  and  called  it  Love.    Its  whiteneM 

Chilled  me,  and  I  painted  it  with  Love's  red 

Hue,  but  my  coloring  was  bad,  it  would 

Not  take  the  shade.    Then  w*en  I  felt  the  chain 

Of  half  pledged  love  binding  my  shuddering  soul 

I  knew  I  was  a  fool,  or  worse,  so  to 

Insult  m>'  God  by  acting  such  a  lie. 

Was  I  so  weak  that  I  must  stoop  for  strength 

To  such  a  weak  thing  as  Hugh  Waterford? 

And  is  my  ear  so  lost  to  sense  of  sound 

That  I  m«st  call  his  little  jangling  on 

The  keys  the  music  of  my  life?" 

-An4  yet. 
H«  loves  you,  daughter." 

"Yes,  as  k»  renders  love. 
But  wounds  soon  heal  on  such  a  soul." 

•'Are  you 
Sure  you  do  him  no  injustice  in  your 
Quick  judgment  of  his  heights  and  depths?" 

"Yes,  I 
Have  measured  well  his  shallow  soul — it  were 
Most  easily  done.    I  might  have  (tone  it  standing 
On  the  brink  without  the  trouble  of  once 
Stepping  in,  and  saved  the  wetting  of  my 
Shoes'  soles.    As  to  heights,  he  does  not  even 
Comprehend  an  altitude.    I  feel  that  I 
Have  let  unworthy  guests  come  in  and  fill 
The  holy  places  of  my  soul.     Father, 
You  know  what  touched  me  on  the  Hill ;  it  drew 
Me  up  to  blessed  heights  until  I  kissed 
The  clouds  and  almost  laid  my  hand  in  God's, 
And  felt  the  farthest  off  infinity 
7« 


Of  space  grow  warni  with  loving.    I  cannot 
But  think  God  gave  me  that,  and  meant  it  for 
My  own;  and  if  some  evil  thing  has  come 
Between  my  heart  and  its  blessed  light,  I  will 
Accept  God's  love  in  meaning  it  for  me. 
And,  despite  my  cousin's  words,  I  hold  him  pure; 
I  feel  his  soul  is  now,  and  always  has 
Been,  and  will  be  forever,  true  to  truth. 
I  will  be  brave  enough  to  live  without 
Love,  but  I  will  not  light  a  rush  and  call 
It  noonday  sun.    I  blame  women  who  will  stoop 
To  say,  'I  cannot  understand,  I  love.' 
But  I  must  quite  despise  a  man  who  writes 
His  name  along  with  such  an  infant's  creed: 
And  he — he  knows  no  more  of  all  that  makes 
My  highest  joy  or  deepest  pain  than  night 
Of  noon.    It  were  not  well  to  spoil  God's  other 
Gifts  by  setting  in  their  midst  an  alien; 
God  gives  us  love  through  His  great  perfectness 
In  all  things.    Through  all  beauty  we  may  read 
His  broad  name  Love.  Then  if  one  source  is  dimmed 
It  were  a  sin  to  close  my  eyes  and  say 
There  is  no  Love?    Life  has  many  blessings; 
Let  us  be  sure  we  miss  none  in  counting. 
I  gave  our  cousin  audience  in  the  arbor  house 
And  let  him  understand  beyond  a  doubt 
His  claim  on  me  was  void  in  life  as  well 
As  law.    He  leaves  to-morrow :  then  we  will 
Go  back — go  back,"  she  added,  clasping  her 
White  hands  around  his  neck,  "And  if  there  should 
Be  something  lost,  my  truest  friend,  why,  we 
Will  consecrate  the  void  and  make  it  pure 
From  all  that  may  defile  or  make  a  lie." 

Joy  seems  a  prisoner  that  loves  to  find 
Its  way  back  to  the  home  it  lost  so  long, 

79 


I 

i 


:l 


So  long  ago  among  the  loni  of  men, 

And  evermore  it  »it»  within  its  cage 

Whose  iron  door  is  held  fast  closed  against 

The  world's  starved  heart  held  by  the  same  strong 

hand 
That  forged  the  curse.    How  eagerly  it  springs, 
When  not  too  closely  watched,  to  touch  a  human 
Heart,  and  light  up  weary  faces,  call  back 
Wandering  eyes  or  touch  with  its  elixir 
Fainting  l'>«!    God  knows  humanity  needs 
II^  warm  •  ^uch.    Joy  seemed  to  have  unloosed  its 
Prison  H  «  r   and  dropped  upon  Valoria's  life 
A  dista  1    smile. 

She  sat  again  before  her  easel,  long 
Forgot,  and  there  grew  beneath  the  skilful 
Touches  of  her  artist  hand  the  picture 
Of  a  chalet  fire;  each  bit  of  homely 
Furniture,  each  trophy  of  the  chase,  that 
Held  a  place  within  the  Switzer's  hut,  came 
Out  upon  her  canvas.     Then  a  girl  sat 
By  the  chalet  fire,  in  Swiss  costume.    You 
Could  not  see  her  face,  it  was  so  shaded  by 
The  upraised  white  hand;  but  her  attitude, 
Even  to  the  ripples  of  loosened  hair. 
Was  one  of  wrapt  attention.    The  crowning 
Touches  of  her  art  seemed  to  have  been  held 
To  give  strength,  dignity  and  grace  to  her 
Companion,  who  sat  throned  in  perfect  type 
Of  manhood,  and  who  seemed  so  really 
Tall  ng,  that  one  felt  at  once  to  listen. 

Deep  grew  the  sweet  depths  of  her  hazel  eyes. 
And  bright  the  rose  tint  on  her  soft  white  cheek. 
Shed  from  Art's  altar  fires  that  blazed  up  high 
And  broad,  its  own  white  heat  made  crimson  by 


The  touche*  of  the  rosy  fingered  god 
Who  thrust  his  subtile  wand  among  the  flames 
So  frequently  that  the  fair  artist's  face 
Was  often  all  aglow. 

The  picture  finished, 
An  untouched  bit  of  canvas  took  its  place, 
And  upon  that  grew  near  and  distant  Alps, 
The  topmost  silver-crested  by  the  moon; 
And  where  the  shadows  fell  there  seemed  to  lie 
A  measureless  abyss  of  shade.    The  moon's 
Light  glinted  shower-like  on  a  balcony 
Where  two  figures  stood,  the  girl  in  shadow, 
But  rile  man — the  same  who  sat  by  the  bright 
Chalet  fire-     -emed  to  absorb  the  light,  he  stood 
So  clear  with  shadow  all  around  him. 
It  might  be  that  she  felt  herself  again 
Upon  the  Hills,  beside  the  chalet  fire, 
Drinking  in  music  from  that  sweet  old  tune 
piat  never  will  grow  old,  but  falls  as  sweet 
And  new  on  human  ears  to-day  as  when 
In  the  first  garden,   long  ago,  God's  voice 
Dropped  soft  and  low  to  crown  all  other  gifts, 
The  silver  notes  among  the  sunset  airs 
Of  Paradise,  which  Adam  quickly  found 
And  set  to  sweet,  low,  earth  words,  thereby  drawing 
Lovely  Eve  from  the  glad  wonder  of  new 
Life,  listening  with  parted,  pearl-tipped  lips 
And  cheeks  like  the  shell's  heart  that  lies  within 
The  bosom  of  the  passionate  sea,  rose 
Glowing  from  its  center,  with  new  earth  light 
Breaking  through  the  starry  splendor  of  her 
Heavenly  eyes;  for  she  seemed  to  bring  back 
To  her  life  the  clear-eyed  joyousness  one 
Fmds  in  places  near  to  love  and  God. 


8i 


SONG 

Where  the  wft  shadows  fall, 
Where  the  wind's  voices  call 
Softly  and  low, 

Mother  earth  cover  me, 
Daisies  grow  over  me. 
Bury  me  low. 

Far  from  the  sound  of  strife. 
From  the  rude  voice  of  life, 
Bury  mc  deep. 

Where  the  soft  summer  rain 
Soothes  all  my  weary  pain. 
There  let  me  sleep. 

Wild  are  earth's  hopes  and  vain ; 
Even  Love  touches  pain ; 
Bury  me  low. 

Mother  earth  cover  me. 
Daisies  grow  over  me. 
Bury  me  low. 


83 


BOOK  THIRD 

Will  evil  triumph  or  will  good  prevail? 

And  what  avails  the  struggle  with  the  wrong? 

Is  human  life  floating  up  from  the  shore 

Of  the  great  silence  that  enwrapped  the  world's 

First  cot: ^ciousness  (though  long  before  God's  voice 

Had  echoed  through  the  Dawn,  leaving 

His  words  to  crystallize  in  suns  and  stars) — 

Is  this  life,  so  floating  from  the  Infinite, 

A  thing  to  take  with  joy?    Or  is  it  but 

A  mode  of  punishment  for  spirits  who 

Have  sinned  in  some  dark  long-ago?    From  what 

Shore  oyer  what  waste  of  waters  do  we  come, 

Lost  children,  far  from  home,  who  cannot  tell 

Aught  of  their  fatherland,  but  only  know 

(By  the  sharp  stirring  of  deep  hidden  chords 

At  sight  of  perfectness  of  beauty  meeting 

Eye  or  ear)  that  home  was  beautiful,  but 

So  far  away!  and  that  the  faintest  tread 

Of  angel  feet  echoing  down  through  the  stars 

Brings  to  the  soul  a  sense  of  pain  and  loss, 

Till  "loss"  becomes  the  watchword  of  the  race! 

God  help  from  his  security  of  joy 

Those  souls  who  cannot  see  the  gain  beyond 

The  loss,  the  love  beyond  the  pain ;  and  hasten 

On  the  golden  time  when  they  shall  see 

The  gain  of  loss. 


LONDON 

Mooer,  for  the  sake  of  her  he  loved  so  well, 
His  own  young  life  blooming  beneath  his  eye 
With  beauty  daily  growing  more  intense, 
And  he  feared,  frailer,  took  up  life  again 
In  London,  hoping  the  change  and  glitter 
83 


Micxocorr  msoiution  test  cha>t 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2| 


A  APPLIED  IIVHGE     Inc 

^S*^  1653  East   Main   Streel 

S^S  RochesUr,   Kcm    rork         U609       USA 

^^S  (716)  *B2  -  0300  -  Phone 

^S  (^'6)   Zae  -  5989  -  Fan 


Of  the  world's  gay  heart  might  effectually 
Efface  all  traces  of  the  shadow  from 
Her  heart  and  life.    How  wise  our  parents  growl 
Did  he  forget  a  little  box  within 
A  corner  of  a  house  in  Wales,  that  held 
A  girl's  glove  and  a  broken  ring,  with  some 
Small  fragment  of  a  rose's  heart? 
Did  he  forget  the  song,  that,  even  yet 
In  some  June  days  when  the  low  summer  winds 
Were  borne  across  the  dry  sands  of  dead  years, 
Would  come  to  him,  that  sad,  sweet,  nameless  song, 
Bringing  the  memory  of  the  mad,  lost  dream  of 
youth? 

LETTER  TO  LEO  WENDAL 

"Safe  in  the  Happy  Valley  are  you,  friend 
Of  mine,  and  watching  daily  round  the  walb 
If  maybe  you  can  find  an  opening  through 
Your  bliss  whereby  you  may  escape?     Well,  I 
Wish  you  all  success,  and  hope  you  will  strike 
A  London  trail.    Since  you  have  gone,  I've  lived 
Quite  hermit-like,  eschewed  society. 
And  snubbed  the  world.    A  month  ago  I  heard 
A  murmurous  flutter  of  approving  sounds 
And  stepped  out  to  see.    A  note  from  Lady 
Huntley  (who  is  my  cousin  and  a  favorite. 
You  know)  baited  with,  'I  have  got  the  sweetest, 
Newest,  loveliest  star  to  shine  within 

My  rooms  to-night,  so  do  not  fail  to  come ' 

Brought  me  out,  as  I  then  thought  "for  one  night 

Only."    Who  should  be  presented,  lifting 

Her  fair  face  like  the  queen  of  flowers,  above 

A  shimmering  sea  of  pearl-like  draperies, 

But  Valoria  Mooer — the  same  and  yet 

So  changed  I  scarce  can  tell  you  how.    Her  beauty 

84 


Flashes  in  the  London  lights  with  a  power 

And  brilliancy  we  never  dreamed  of  when 

We  all  kept  holiday  among  the  Hills. 

I  say,  we,  when_  I  should  say,  I.    How  do 

1  know  how  far'your  dream  went?    Her  eyes,  those 

Clear-orbed  hazel,  wear  a  look  sometimes  tliat 

Strikes  me  like  the  cry  of  some  lone  bird  lost 

In  the  night  and  storm.    I  find  it  only 

Comes  in  moments  when  the  sentinel  is 

Off  his  guard.    I  saw  it  come  one  day  as  she 

Turned  from  a  picture  rest  that  held  a  view 

Of  Lauterbrunnen,  but  the  rare  brave  mouth 

Did  never  once  betray  or  swerve  from  its 

Sweet  steadfastness;  and  that  live  color  that  I 

Used  to  call  up  with  the  mention  of  one 

Name,  now  keeps  its  place  as  calmly  as  some 

Painted  dowager's.    Wendal,  to  you  I  write 

Without  a  mask.    You  gave  me  once  your  manly 

Confidence,  and  I  know  that  for  you  she  bore 

In  her  white  hand  the  olive  branch  that  told 

Of  the  subsiding  waters  in  your  strong 

Unrestful  soul,  vexing  itself  while  others 

Sat  and  smoked,  with  dropping  line  and  plummet 

In  unanswering  depths ;  and  if  I  ever  saw 

A  woman  whom  love  touched  newly  like  a  glad 

Surprise,  I  saw  her  in  Valoria  Mooer. 

We  are  bought  and  sold  in  this  world's  mart, 

And  sell  our  royal  birthright  for  a  mess 

Of  pottage  that  turns  out  the  merest  stew. 

That  when  one  finds  a  real  diamond 

Among  the  paste,  he  is  as  glad  as  was 

The  one  of  old  who  found  the  Pearl  of  Price. 

The  question  haunts  me.  What  has  come  between 

The  light  of  your  two  souls,  that  should  now  be 

Shedding  on  each  other  their  soft  splendor? 

I  shall  confess  my  thoughts  turn  quite  direct 

85 


To  that  man  Waterford,  who  aped  you  all 
Through  Oxford,  and  then  wormed  himself  into 
Your  confidence  by  claiming  cousinship 
With  your  friends  the  Mooers.    You  can  testify 
I  never  liked  him,  and  felt  always  that 
There  was  the  puppy  in  him,  though  he  would 
Bristle  up  and  bark  in  vicious  big-dog  style. 
This  cousinship  seems  doubtful,  for  he  does  not 
Come  within  her  circle  here,  but  lingers  round 
The  outer  edge  with  hungry  eyes  that  make 
Me  wish  the  good  old  privilege  known  as 
"Doubling  up"  to  our  brave  sires  had  not  gone  out 
Among  gentlemen.     Mooer  treats  him  not  too 
Cordidly.     I  have  watched  them  closely,  thinking 
Of  the  words  you  said  that  night  when  you  disturbed 
My  peace  by  saying  that  you  left  London 
For  the  Happy  Valley  by  to-morrow's  train, 
And  when  I  spoke, her  name  you  said  so  coolly, 
'O,  our  friend,  Miss  Mooer,  she  marries  Water- 
ford—' 
And  then,  'good-night,'  so  quickly  that  I  thought 
I  dreamed.    Now  take  a  friend's  advice  and  hasten 
Home.    I  can  but  think  you  have  been  victims 
Of  some  wrong.    There  are  quite  an  host  of  suitors 
At  her  shrine,  but  not  one  of  them  can  bring 
The  wordless  music  to  her  face  that  I 
Have  seen  there  when  a  certain  friend  of  mine 
Would  step  or  speak  suddenly  at  her  side. 
Come  back,  O  friend !  and  try  again  your  power — 
Flash  out  the  music  from  her  lovely  face. 
I  warn  you  if  you  do  not  I  will  try 
The  scales  myself.    It  is  now  said  that  "Howeth's 
The  favored  man."    I  think  I  am  not  quite 
Mistaken  in  the  thought  that  when  she  hears 
My  voice  she  listens  to  another  that 
She  first  heard  mine  with.    It  is  unflattering, 
86 


But  truth  compels  me  to  admit  she  does 
Look  past  my  eyes,  although  I  am  not  quite 
So  fragile  as  to  be  mistaken  for  a  ghost. 
And  yet  I  have  failed  to  tempt  her  by  my 
Most  artful  ulk  to  ask  a  question  that 
Might  touch  your  name;  although  I  saw  her  bend 
An  hour  above  a  book  and  never  turn 
A  page  one  night  when  two  of  our  old  club 
Discussed  you  not  far  off. 

You  know  our  friend 
Sawstones,  the  logical,  with  his  three-storied  head 
Well  stored  with  facts,  who  wrote  three  books  to 

prove 
That  "A  was  A"  in  refutation  of 
The  heresies  of  Bick  when  he  affirmed 
That  from  a  given  point  "A  was  not  A 
Alone  but  also  B."    Would  you  believe 
That  he  has  trundled  all  his  facts  and  fossils 
To  her  shrine  and  vowsd  that  if  she  would  but 
Come  to  him  that  he  would  henceforth  set  her. 
At  least  even  with  his  ologies  within 
The  highest  chamber  of  his  head  and  heart! 
He  would  keep  his  vow,  too,  piously  as 
Men  keep  the  wish  of  their  dead  wives,  that  they 
Should  marry  and  not  mourn  for  them.    You  l^-ow 
We  never  thought  him  conscious  of  another      . 
Before;  it  is  quite  a  new  phase  in  which 
To  study  up  the  human,  if  it  were 
Not  too  sacred  to  make  notes,  to  see  what 
Tremor  of  bewilderment  the  touches 
Of  her  robe  will  bring  upon  the  settled 
Statement  of  his  face. 

Now,  Wendal,  I  have 
Given  you  warning  fair.    There  are  other 
Champions  entering  the  lists,  so  should 
You  care  to  lift  her  glove  and  break  a  lance, 

87 


I; 

'ift 
•n 

i 


Then  show  your  knightly  spurs  upon  the  field 
At  once.    The  world  will  gather  in  three  months 
To  the  great  heart  of  England,  there  to  see 
Its  sights  and  show  its  shows.    Valoria 
Stays  until  the  coming   vave  rebounds.    Her 
Father  lingers  more,  I  fancy,  for  her 
Sake  than  for  his  own. 

Hoping  to  meet  you  soon, 

Ho-.veth." 


SYDENHAM 

The  great  world  gathered  for  its  interchange 
Of  sight  and  sound  of  sixty-one.    It  was 
A  thing  to  mark  a  life:  standing  within 
The  nave  to  hear  the  grand  orchestra  pour 
A  nation's  wail  for  the  true  prince  who  had 
Laid  at  her  hushed  feet  the  early  broken 
"White  flower  of  a  blameless  life."    Meanwhile  his 
Work  lived  after  him  and  rose  a  fitting 
Monument,  grand,  high,  and  broad,  and,  like  his  life, 
Transparent,  not  hung  round  with  cumbrous  cur- 
tains 
Ready  to  be  drawn  at  given  signal 
Of  a  finger  on  the  lip,  but  lifting 
Up  its  many  crystals  to   the  sun,   flashed 
Back  for  every  ray  a  thousand 
Patterns  of  the  king  of  day.    God  be  thanked 
Whenever  on  the  world  falls  the  sweet  incense 
Of  a  good  man's  life! 

The  wave  of  song  had  died 
Away  among  the  courts  while  men  stood  silent 
With  uncovered  heads,  and  women  wept  at  thought 
Of  rile  lone  Lady  on  the  throne  whose  star 
Of  life  had  set  so  soon.    Valeria's 


Thoughts  were  with  the  dead ;  twice  her  father  spoke 
Her  name  before  she  found  the  fitting  words 
To  answer  greetings  from  a  gentleman, 
Who  said, 

"I  have  been  most  anxious  we  should  meet, 
Miss  Mooer._   I  wished  to  say  how  much  I  am 
Your  debtor  for  two  pictures  from  your  hand — 
Gems,  I  assure  you,  and  not  I  alone — 
Your  mother  has  not  written,  then  ?    Oh !  she 
Said  perhai>s  she  would  reserve  it  for  a  great 
Surprise." 

Then  he  told  how  a  month  ago. 
Being  in  Wales,  he  called  upon  his  old 
Friend   Mooer,  was  grieved  to  find  that  he  was 

absent, 
But  felt  repaid  at  sight  of  two  rare  works 
Of  art — Miss  Mooer's  last  paintings — which 
Her  mother  showed.    As  he  was  on  the  list 
Of  judges  for  that  department  of  the  world's 
Great  Fair,  he  urged  his  claims  at  once,  which  Mrs. 

Mooer 
Had  with  great  kindness  listened  to,  and  loaned 
Them  for  the  time.     He  had  himself  attended 
To  their  hanging  in  most  favourable  lights: 
If  Mr.  Mooer  and  his  fair  friend  would  come 
Now,  he  would  be  most  happy  to  conduct 
Them  where  they  hung. 

Valeria's  heart  stood  still. 
That  those  two  pictures  painted  as  they  were 
From  colors  dra*n,  like  the  fine  spider's  web, 
From  her  own  being,  should  hang  in  mid-day  blaze 
Before  the  idle  gaze  of  half  a  world  I 
Her  lips  refused  to  speak.     Her  father  begged 
Excuse,  another  time,  his  daughter  was 
Not  well,  had  been  deeply  moved  by  the  grand 
Tribute  to  our  buried  Prince ;  and  bore  her  clinging 


Like  a  dead  weight  to  his  arm,  away  from  tifht 
And  sound.    Alone  within  her  room,  the  storm 
Broke  over  her;  the  far  off  sea-line  showed 
Its  white-caps  to  the  lowering  sky,  while  waves, 
Starting  from  ripples  in  the  distant  years, 
Broke  in  broad  columns  at  her  shuddering  feet. 
Uod  help  us  in  our  helpless  days  of  storm! 
When  by  the  quick  electric  stab  within 
The  heart  we  know  from  just  what  wreck  the 

wave-worn 
Fragment  tossed  upon  the  shore  has  come.     This 

love! 
Alone  at  midnight  she  had  dug  its  grave 
And  pressed  the  mould  upon  it  with  her  foot 
Uf  pride;  had  raised  no  monument,  planted 
No  rose,  not  even  pi-'  d  a  little  cross 
To  say  "Resurgam,"  when  she  passed  that  way. 
But  to-day  she  knew  it  lived,  had  glided  out 
Its  i;rave  e'er  the  sun  glinted  on  the  mould, 
And  followed  her  with  noiseless  footsteps  through 
The  aching  years,  stealing  the  rose's  bloom. 
The  sueet  heart  music  from  the  winds  and  waves. 
And  all  the  light  of  beauty  from  her  life. 
Now,  pacing  up  and  down  her  room,  she  pressed 
Her  white  hands  on  her  eyes  as  though  to  hide 
The  thought  that  her  most  sacred  heart  of  hearts 
Hung  in  broad  light  for  all  the  world  to  read. 
After  the  storm  was  spent  she  gathered  some 
Degree  of  comfort  from  the  thought  that  there 
Was  only  one,  and  he,  she  hoped,  was  safe 
In  Abyssinia,  whose  eye,  seeing 
Her  work,  could  read  her  heart;  so  after  all 
The  world  would  only  see  the  painted  mount 
And  torrents'  fall,  with  a  traveler  standing 
By  a  peasant  girl. 

After  three  dreary  days 
90 


She  took  her  place  again  among  the  crowd, 
More  frail  but  lifting  lily-wise  hrr  queenly 
Beauty  white  and  rare.     One  day  when  half  the 

world 
Had  wearied  of  its  sights  and  shows  and  had 
Turned  homeward,  Valoria,  wandering  through 
The  thmning  ranks  alone,  had  paused  to  gaze 
Upon  a  painting  near  her  own.    She  felt 
A  sudden  tremor  through  her  frame,  such  as 
We  sometimes  feel  when  the  electric  wave 
From  some  other  life  reaches  across  the  circle 
Of  our  own,  and  a  soft  girlish  voice  cried, 

TU        •         •  .  "L«>. 

1  here  is  a  picture  here  so  like  you  that 

You  must  have  sat  for  it  in  sopie  of  your 

Aerial  flights." 

IT  1/  ,  ..        T*""  *  fay  Birl'sh  form 

Half  followed  and  half  led  along  a  man 

In  whom  in  spite  of  bronzed  and  bearded  face 

She  recognized  her  guide  among  the  Hills 

Pointing  to  the  picture  of  A  Chalet  Fire, 

The  maiden  said,  "Cousin,  behold  your  duplicate  " 

His  eyes  followed  half  carelessly  the  painting 

Or  her  hand;  then  the  life  rushed  up  above 

The  bronze  and  beard  and  broke  in  hurried  ripples 

Over  cheek  and  brow. 

n     u-      "y^hopainf'd  that?  HowethI   Howeth!" 

Catching  his  friend  who  came  along  just  then 

And  pointing  with  his  steady  gaze,  "There  is 

But  one  in  all  the  world  who  could  have  painted 

that." 
"Ah,  very  like;  'tis  a  rare  piece  of  art; 
I  have  heard  it  much  admired,  but  I  wish 
To  show  your  cousin  here  something  quite  rare 
In  statuary,  so  with  your  leave  I  take 
Her  now.     Do  me  a  favor,  will  you?    See 
91 


That  lady  moving  toward  the  door?     Follow 
Her  quick  and  give  her  this  from  me." 

Then,  Howeth 
Thrust  a  letter  in  his  hand  and,  bowmg, 
Led  the  lady  bird  away.     By  the  time 
Valeria  reached  the  door  she  had  grown  calm; 
So  when  the  step  she  knew  so  well  paused  at 
Her  side,  and  they  two  stood  again  gazing, 
Each  on  the  other's  face,  across  the  edges 
Of  the  yawning  years,  she  was  the  first  to  speak 
The  fitting  word;  which   friends  use  when   they 

meet. 
Having  been  only  friends.    Wendal  stood  like 
A  courtier  who  has  been  so  long  in  duty 
On  the  field  that  when  he  found  himself  again 
In  the  bright  presence  of  his  queen  forgot 
His  courtliness.    But  there  are  souls  who  spring 
So  quickly  to  each  other's  level,  leaping 
All  boundaries  of  time,  estrangement,  pride 
And  almost  hate,  let  them  but  meet,  they  rush, 
Electrify  and  mingle,  quick  as  light 
And  air,  besides,  one  glance  full  in  her  hazel 
Eyes  which  looked  but  simple  truth,  yet  neither 
Asked  nor  gave,  wrought  its  old  charm  in  spite  of 

doubts 
And  aching  fears ;  and  when  she  smiled  adieu, 
Holding  the  letter  in  the  hand  he  had 
Just  touched,  his  heart  was  keeping  holiday 
Upon  the  Heaven-kissed  Hills. 
"Now,  Wendal,  stay  me  with  flagons  of  your 
Choicest  wine,  and  comfort  me  with  odors 
Of  the  East,  while  I  recount  my  last  achievement 
On    the   legal   turf,"   said    Howeth,   entering   his 

friend's 
Room  when  the  night  had  come.    "Thank  you,  two 

chairs 

92 


Will  do.     A  week  «go,  coming  from  court 
One  day  with  all  my  legal  energies 

On  Waterford.    Thmking  of  some  th-nK,  that 
I  wf.hed  to  know,  I  linked  my  arm  :.    .Ts. 

mi™  .  •"  u^  """"'•    ^'"^  *"'•"'''  opening 

Bloom  to  meet  the  sun  as  his  confiding 

Heart  opened  to  me.    A  glass  or  two  of  my 
Best  Burgundy  loosed  every  hinge,  and  (lung 
Wide  open  all  the  charmed  recesses,  where 
It  IS  supposed  his  inner  nature  hides 
It  was  hard  work  to  hold  the  gUss  and  smile 
When  one  so  longed  to  aim  it  at  his  head, 
But  I  restrained  my  rage,  led  him  along 
By  certain  names,  until  within  the  narrow 
Chamber  of  his  soul  I  pounced  on  a  vile  truth 
Know  then:  that  when  three  years  ago  yo.  put 
A  letter  in  his  rare  on  plea  of  cousinship, 
He  never  sent  it,  kept  it  till  he  might 
With  his  own  eyes  be  sure  if  all  were  true 
He  heard  of  his  fair  cousin's  loveliness- 
He  also  gave  attention  to  her  father's 
Interest  at  the  banks." 

c.  ,  ,,       "Whatlnever  sent  it?  Then 

She  never  knew,  Valeria !    Let  me 

Oo,  1 11  hound  him  to  her  feet,  force  him 

To  swear  his  perfidy  before  her  eyes. 

Br.«r      T-  '"  *'■'"''  °^  ="  'hose  aching  years 
Breathing  their  separating  breath  between 
Us  since  that  last  look  in  her  eyes  upon 

all        """  "'"''  *'""  ^°°^"^  ^°'  ""•  ^°°^'^ 
Along  the  coming  days  for  me,  who  never 

To  Walej  myself,  drew  near  enou^.i  to  see 
93 


I 


Her  tittinK  in  a  garden  teat,  and  ice 
Him  bending  over  her  arranging  rote* 
In  her  hair.    Then  I  believed  the  itory  that 
He  wrote  roe  telling  of  their  love,  alio 
Believed  the  menage  came  fiom  her  which  he 
Passed  on,  that  she  could  only  think  of  me 
As  a  friend.     Howeth,  why  hu  the  devil't 
Hand  such  power  to  trump  our  surest  cards?    But 
I  must  go  to  her  now." 

"Listen  a  moment 
Longer— she  knows  all  now;  you  placed  within 
Her  hand  to-day  the  letter  that  you  wrote 
Three  years  ago;  and  that  I  wrung  from  our 
Friend  Waterford.    After  I  gained  to  much 
By  wine,  I  filled  his  timid  soul  with  fears. 
It  was  a  work  of  time,  but  still  not  very 
Difficult  in  hi:*  muddled  state,  insisted 
Also  on  a  written  statemer  •  from  him 
Of  his  own  perfidy  also  sent  to  her. 
So  now,  my  boy,  go  in  and  win ;  as  for 
Old  brimstone  Jack,  we'll  trump  him  with  our 
Queen."         

Fair  acres,  varying  wood  and  vale  and  lea, 
And  winding  silver  links  of  low-voiced  streams. 
Lay  round  a  mansion  where  a  lady  moved 
With  graceful  step  through  brightly  furnished  rooms. 
Her  white  hand  touching  now  and  then  a  vase 
Of  flowers,  or  statuette  or  drooping  shade 
Of  window  drapery  to  more  harmony. 
Now  she  looks  from  the  windows  or  from  off 
The  balcony,  lifts  her  eyes  as  though  to  catch 
Some  coming  one,  and  then  she  reads  again 
A  letter  she  has  held  all  day,  which  says: 
"To-day  I  bring  her,  mother,  bring  my  wife 
To-day,  vhom  jrou  will  love  for  her. sake  as 

94 


^"^  '"'IL,"""'  """"  "■••  ••"  •'■""Id  be"  your 
Upon  your  daughter-,  „a„,e;  it  ."„  tweet 

In  hope  and  love,  youri, 
^  eo. 
This  lady,  let  u»  look  at  her  and  watch 

«"^--^-S7e-Sw 

fctee-rte'r''a'rfi  "  ""'  "^^^''^  -«"•» 
Them  fall  upon  the  waters  glidine  „«/ 

A,  we  to  our  beloved,  that  the'^^  wH  be 

A^n  over  the%a„Mi:r;trI:i'"X?e":f 


Will  be  sure  to  find  its  image  still  held  in 
Its  heart.  _  Did  the  lone  lady  think  of  that 
Glad  coming  time,  or  did  her  thoughts  stay  with 
The  dying  leaf  burning  its  heart  away? 
As  a  sad  spirit  speaks  to  its  familiar,  thus 
The  lady  speaks: — 

"We  sit  beside  a  loom; 
Fate  fills  the  shuttle  while  we  weave  and  weave; 
We  have  no  choice  of  shade,  and  often  wearying 
Of  the  darkening  web,  we  cry  for  'rose  and  gold/ 
Fate's  lips  are  dumb,  her  eyes  cast  down,  she  does 
Not  heed  our  earnest  cry,  till  some  dark  day. 
When  we  have  ceased  to  cry  for  rose  and  gold, 
She  drops  by  us  a  shuttle  filled  with  each. 
We  seize  it  eagerly,  and  weave  ii  through, 
But  still  no  form,  no  comeliness  I   Our  eyes 
May  not  look  on  the  right  side  of  the  web. 
We  hold  the  empty  shuttle  in  our  hands 
But  search  in  vain  for  bloom  of  rose  or  leaf 
Of  gold.     It  must  be  in  bright  bloom  upon 
The  other  side;  for  only  here  and  there 
A  golden  thread  that  shows  no  form  is  thrown 
Upon  the  wrong  side  of  this  web  of  life, 
To  hold  for  some  bright  spanning  on  the  right 
Oh,  God  I  if  the  lone  weaver  could  but  see 
The  ri^t  side  of  the  web,  his  weary  face 
Might  then  not  grow  so  pale,  nor  all  the  light 
Fade  out  of  his  sad  eyes,  nor  his  hands  grow 
Thin,  forget  their  cunning  as  he  drops  his 
Shuttle  and  falls  beneath  the  loom,  crying. 
Just  as  men  say,  'he  dies,'  'I  see  the  right 
Side  of  the  web.'    Oh,  weavers!  it  is  hard 
To  sit  alone  all  day  and  weave  and  weave. 
To  die  and  leave  the  web  to  be  unrolled 
By  other  hands ;  when  one  will  cut  out  here 
A  breadth,  just  where  we  lost  our  rose,  to  soften 
96 


Acouch.  vvhHe  AlXlj^Hl  kin. 
Who  furn.shes,  and  marvel  at  the  rare 
Wrought  beauty  of  design  " 

My  girlish  dreams.    VaIori»  I  ™ 

Of  li'f.  ■_         7         vaioriai  my  rose 

97 


And  ,aid  with  her  good  "ight.  ^^^  ^^  ^^^^ 

Bade  his  child  farewell,  he  said,  'Valoria, 

If  ever  one  should  look  into  your  eyes 

In  search  of  mine,  and  kiss  their  lids  down  when 

She  finds  them,  give  her  this. 


ALUMNA  POEM 

(Riad  at  the  organitation  of  the  Alumtue  Jttocuh 

tion  of  Acadia  Seminary.  WolfvUle,  N.  S., 

June  1st,  i8g2.) 

Ring  out,  June  bells,  upon  the  breeze, 
Floating  the  colors  that  we  love, 
In  loyal  greetings  from  above 
The  glory  of  the  sununer  trees  I 

Bells  of  Acadia,  strong  and  clear 
Ring  out  your  country's  meed  of  praise 
To  those  who,  through  the  widening  days. 
Weave  the  white  web  of  knowledge  here! 

The  varied  threads  the  ages  span, 

On  busy  spindles  of  the  brain, 

Are  readjusted,  till  again 

The  loom  shows  forth  the  better  plan. 

Oh,  busy  spindles  of  the  past! 
Oh,  whirring  wheels  forever  still! 
Dead  spinners!  who  once  sent  the  thrill 
Through  laden  shuttles  flying  fast 

Along  your  warp  threads  in  the  looms. 
Long  crumbled  in  forgotten  dust  ; 
The  hinges  of  your  doors  are  rust 
.   That  closed  upon  your  spinning  rooms! 

Yet  many  a  golden  thread  ye  span. 
And  many  a  new  design  is  wrought 
On  patterns  which  the  weavers  sought 
To  fashion  for  the  use  of  man. 

99 


Updrifting  from  the  changing  sea 
The  past  into  the  present  brings 
The  echoes  of  the  song  that  rings 
O'er  the  wide  earth  by  low  and  lea, 

Of  the  rare  maid  Evangeline, 
Whose  simple  tr  :th  shall  ever  stand 
The  loadstar  of  Acadia's  land, — 
Though  ripening  ages  roll  between 

The  f  r-o£E  day,  when,  looking  back 
From  crowded  deck  of  alien  ship 
With  breaking  heart  and  pallid  lip. 
The  roof-trees'  blaze  illumed  her  track. 


A  happier  lot  is  ours  to-day. 
Peace  spreads  her  banner  o'er  the  land; 
May  queen  and  country  ever  stand 
The  sacred  names  for  which  we  pray. 

Greetings!  from  those  who,  looking  back, 
Feel  from  afar  the  summer  thrills, 
Spent  glories  on  the  morning  hills, 
Grown  distant  in  tneir  lengthened  track. 

Greetings  of  heart  and  hand  to  this 
June  garden  of  Canadian  girls  1 
If  loving  thought  might  gather  pearls 
Our  rhymes  would  ne'er  a  jewel  miss. 


We  hold  among  the  precious  things 
Outgrowing  from  the  heaven  above, 
There's  nothing  worthier  of  love 
Or  care  from  us  than  girlhood  bring.. 

100 


With  !t»  sweet  faith  in  coming  good, 
It!  fearless  eye  and  ready  hand, 
Its  locks  agleam  with  golden  sand. 
God  bless  Canadian  maidenhood  1 

When  die  wide  margins  of  the  soul 
Are  taking  form  and  color  on, 
Whenmen  are  heroes  true  and  strong, 
And  right  knows  never  wrong's  control; 

When  purple  summits,  glory-crowned  I 
Await  the  pressure  of  their  feet. 
When  all  things  true  and  gracious  meet 
Upon  the  hills  that  stretch  around. 

For  white  ranb  forming  year  by  year 
The  spaces  in  your  country  wait. 
Your  truth  shall  heir  to  make  her  great 
And  fill  her  homes  with  happy  cheer. 

Be  sure  no  higher  mission  calls, 
Although  the  laurel  and  the  bays 
Are  held  aloft  in  open  ways. 
Than  ministry  within  home  walls, — 

To  touch  with  bright  artistic  grace 
The  common  lot  and  daily  way. 
To  be  the  eye  and  ear  and  stay. 
Of  those  who  falter  in  the  race. 

For  highest  culture  never  should 
Disturb  from  its  appointed  sphere. 
From  the  creation,  showing  clear 
God's  gracious  plan  of  womanhood, — 


lOI 


The  womanhood  that  trims  the  lamp 
Whose  opal  light  shall  ever  gleam, 
Athwart  the  memory  in  dream; 
Of  home,  on  ocean  or  in  camp, — 

The  womanhood  that  up  and  down 
The  wards  where  wounded  soldiers  lay 
Walked  while  by  her  small  lamp's  dear  ray 
The  bruised  hands  moved  to  touch  her 
gown. 

The  womanhood  that  held  the  hands 
Of  the  Christ-child  upon  her  lip,— 
The  womanhood  that  saw  the  drip 
Of  His  life  blbod  upon  the  sands. 

The  air  is  filled  with  boding  sounds; 
Right  struggles  in  the  coming  stress. 
While  Reason  in  an  alien  dress 
Gives  the  pale  Christ  again  his  wounds. 

Tr-th  is  of  God;  it  claimeth  not 
To  stand  on  any  earthly  base ; 
Wars  rage,  ambition  shows  its  face 
In  places  by  the  dollar  bought. 

Yet  myriad  nars  cry  out  to  thee. 
The  spreading  .:a  this  message  rings. 
From  the  high  hills  of  God  there  swings 
Truth's  pendulum  untouched  and  freel 

The  right  will  triumph;  let  us  then 
Work  on  the  side  yet  sure  to  win. 
And  waste  no  hours  with  soft-lipped  sin, 
However  sweet  the  tongue  or  pen; 

I02 


Environed  by  whatever  wrong, 

Hold  fast  the  loul't  integrity, 

The  inner  sanctuary's  key, 

Though  loud  the  clamor  of  the  throng. 

Now  let  us  each  clasp  woman's  hands 
Around  Acadia's  maiden  life. 
That  glows  to-day  with  promise,  rife 
In  future  good  to  many  lands. 

With  earnestness  as  woman  should 
Before  the  heat  hath  dried  the  dew, 
Ring  out  the  frivolous  and  imtruel 
Ring  in  the  nobler  womanhood! 


"03 


ENGLAND  LISTENS 

What  are  the  tound»  that  I  hear. 
Gathering  strength  as  they  come, 

Earnest  and  deep  as  a  prayer, 
Strong  as  a  cheer  for  home? 

The  voices  of  children  afar 
Calling  from  over  the  sea, 

Be  still,  O  babble  of  war. 
Till  I  hear  what  they  say  unto  me. 

It  is  coming  by  steam  and  wheel, 
It  is  coming  by  wave  and  wind. 

It  is  flashing  under  the  keel. 
And  this  is  the  message  it  brings: 


VOICES  OF  THE  COLONIES 

Oh,  mighty  r.'  other,  take  our  sons 
To  stand  with  thine  around  the  throne. 

The  pulses  of  thy  Kingdom  beat 

Strong  in  our  hearts  as  in  thine  own. 

Thy  cause  is  ours,  our  leader  thou, 

To  follow,  asking  no  retreat. 
Shall  we  stand  idle,  while  the  stress 

Of  battle  presses  at  thy  feet? 

Far  from  the  Mayflower  Lar.d, 

Far  from  the  heather. 
Thistle  and  Maple  Leaf 

Stand  they  together. 
104 


Right  in  the  teeth  of  hell 

Shoulder   to  shoulder, 
Red  Rote  and  Shamrock  preti! 

Which  it  the  bolder? 

Now  the  palm  thowi  its  plume, 

By  the  Australian, 
Watch  while  he  closes  in. 

This  is  no  alien. 

These  are  strong  sons  who  stand 

Guarding  the  jrartal 
Of  the  old  mother  land. 

Crown  them  immortal 

Love  by  their  graves  shall  weep 

Forgetting  never. 
Light  on  their  graves  shall  fall 

Ever  and  ever. 


105 


SONG 

Life  gives  u$  better  thin  it  take*  awaj. 
In  brighter  hope  and  broader,  fuller  day. 

There  ii  no  past,  but  all  things  move  and  blend 
In  sure  fulfUment  of  a  promised  end. 

V/e  leave  the  mistjr  capes  and  vale*  we  trod 
For  the  glad  sunshine  on  the  Hills  of  God. 

To  slow,  grand  measure  up  the  aisle  of  years 
Move  truths  enfranchised  from  long  bond*  and 
tears. 

Hands  chat  groped  darkly  for  the  truth  of  things 
Hold  the  clear  signet  of  the  King  of  Kings. 

Broad  waves,  that  tossed  in  fierce  white  passion 

heat. 
Fall  into  psalm  and  kiss  the  resting  feet. 


io6 


